


Pristine Condition.

by Harrishawksuperiour



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Angry Kylo Ren, Battle of Starkiller Base, Black Markets, Blow Jobs, Captivity, Come Swallowing, Comfort, Companionship, Control, Coping, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dark Past, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Finger Sucking, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Oral Sex, Fluff and Smut, Forbidden Love, Gift Giving, Gloved Fingering, Hux's Name Is Not Armitage, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Infertility, Injured Hux, Interrogation, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Lap Sex, Loss, Loss of Virginity, Love, Master/Pet, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Mitaka Has A Crush, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Organ Transplantation, Ownership, Pet, Physical Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Marking, Post-Battle of Starkiller Base, Pre-Battle of Starkiller Base, Protective Hux, Relationship Discussions, Romance, Rough Sex, Service Submission, Sexual Content, Sexual Submission, Sexual Undertones, Sharing a Bed, Slave Trade, Slow Romance, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Surgery, Survivor Guilt, Tatooine, Tatooine Slave Culture, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vaginal Fingering, Virgin Kylo Ren, implied virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2018-05-24 06:03:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 106,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6143874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harrishawksuperiour/pseuds/Harrishawksuperiour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has that birthday present that gets tossed in the corner from a relative that doesn't know them very well. </p><p>Lucilla is General Hux's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Unexpected](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5875999) by [Harrishawksuperiour](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harrishawksuperiour/pseuds/Harrishawksuperiour). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Admiral Hux sends his son a gift though the young General doesn't seem to have much of an interest.

Hair darker than dark. Skin paler than pale. Eyes bluer than blue. Maybe twenty three or twenty four years of age. Not very tall. Petite. Angelic facial features. Lucilla was striking. He circled her with his hands clasped behind his back, surveying every inch of her with both confusion and irritation marring those stern, pallid characteristics; if this didn’t make her feel self-conscious, nothing would.

“And she just…. Arrived?” He asked the chrome Trooper behind him incredulously, as if the woman before him couldn’t speak.

“Yes, sir.” The Trooper’s drawling response indicated she couldn’t have been more bored with the proceedings. The urge to fidget and shift uncomfortably grated at Lucilla but she held herself. _Men will be cruel, they will be cold. They **will** punish you._ “Only half an hour ago, sir.”

“And my father sent her?”

“Seems so, sir.”

A roll of those icy blue eyes and a disgruntled tut indicated that he was far from pleased with his father’s _gift_. Lucilla took this all in; she may have been verbally silent but her nervous mind was calculating everything. Did that mean she could go home? If _that_ could even be called home. If he didn’t want her, if he wasn’t taken by her; would she be released? But she had been paid for, it wouldn’t be that simple.

“I’ll contact my father.” His response was final and dismissive. Lucilla wasn’t sure what was expected of her at that moment but she didn’t dare move. She had always been docile, gentle and open to taking instruction; that was (more than likely) why she’d been selected for this endeavour. “Take her to my quarters; I’ll deal with her later.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lucilla was escorted away by the chrome Trooper. Even walking through the halls of Finalizer (apparently that’s what the ship was called), said Trooper strode with her weapon ready as if marching into battle rather than delivering a woman to a bedroom among her own people. The vessel must have been colossal as the pair walked for seemingly hours, the meek stranger following the Stormtrooper who also appeared to be female; it had her wondering how many of the white clad soldiers were actually women. Her walk through the ship did not go unnoticed; while the Stormtroopers ignored her (she assumed they knew better), the staff dressed in black stared at her as she passed.

 

She wasn’t a prisoner, she had no stun cuffs. A visitor? She was a little more than that, or she was supposed to be; maybe she wouldn’t be for very long as soon as the General contacted his father. Even a dark, masked figure watched the unfamiliar lady pass from the shadows. They caught each other in a glance; he radiated danger so she quickly looked away to try and keep up with the long stride of Captain Phasma. Eventually, her guide came to a stop outside an unassuming door which looked like all the others they had passed. A key code was entered (one very few were privy to) and the door slide back with a _whoosh._

 

Nerves heightened, Lucilla stepped in after Phasma. As though on a sensor, the lights flickered on at their presence so she could take in her new surroundings; there was a theme of black leather and metal combined in the upholstery: the sofa, two armchairs by a freshly lit fireplace (someone must have been sent ahead to do that duty). The desk in the corner was of a dark wood that she couldn’t identify; it was most likely an antique, she wouldn’t be able to tell just by looking at it and the chair behind it was more or less the same as the other seats. The continued motif of the metal walls and floors was still present though they seemed darker, probably because of the décor.

 

This was her new home, maybe not for long but for the time being. Another sliding door lay a few feet behind the sofa but she didn’t approach it. There was no sign of a bed; that must have been in there with a bathroom; she doubted the General would share a bathroom with the general population. A round window caught her attention by the fireplace; it looked out onto a mass of stars and just then Lucilla could see this simple, standard thing being of a great comfort to her.

“The General will be with you when he is ready.” The drawl of the chrome Trooper brought her back. “I would not recommend getting too comfortable.”

“ _He doesn’t like me, does he?_ ” She asked softly; speaking for the first time since her arrival with something Coruscant about her accent.

“I cannot speak for the General.” Phasma answered with a twinge of impatience.

“ _Will he kill me?_ ”

“I cannot speak for the General.” Almost robotically, the response was repeated and internally, Lucilla felt herself crumble.

 

* * *

 

 

**“General.”**

“Admiral.” Hux stood alone in an empty control room, specific orders given that he was not to be disturbed. The disembodied voice shared his accent but it was deeper, somewhat colder than the General’s if it was possible.

**“You got my gift?”**

“I did.” The General confirmed, his hands never seeming to leave their clasped position behind his back.

**“And?”**

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. What is her purpose? What do I do with her?”

 **“What’s to understand, General? Do what you want with her. She’s yours to do with as you please. A companion by breed; she will submit, she will be servile; I have been guaranteed of that.”** It was an odd present for a father to give his son; then again, his relationship with his father had never been close. It had never been typically father and son but more like mentor and student.

“But I don’t want her.” Hux protested lightly but taking care not to anger the Admiral.

 **“So kill her, General. I don’t need to know about it.”** He probably wouldn’t go that far. If she enraged him, he might.

“Why did you send her?”

 **“You’re not married, General. Even if you were, I would still have sent her. You need something in your down time; you cannot work constantly. That is how young men meet the grave.”** _Rich coming from you!_ Hux thought bitterly but knew better than to voice it. 

“How long will she be staying?”

 **“Indefinitely. She is a companion. Keep her as long as you like; her life is paid for. Dispose of her if you don’t want her.”** How kind of him. A whore for life.

“Does she have a name?”

**“Ah so you _are_ keeping her?”**

“I didn’t say that.”

 **“I don’t know if she has a name or not, General. I picked her out, I didn’t ask for her life story. Find out for yourself.”** It ended there.

 

* * *

 

 

Hux left the control room and the guarding Stormtroopers were dismissed to resume their normal duties. It would have been no harm to have another look at her; one on one, so his course was directed to his own quarters. When he entered, she jumped from the armchair she had been perched lightly upon the edge of as though electrocuted. He surveyed her again, she was definitely a lot younger than him.

Donning a modest powder blue dress with those dark locks down around her coating her shoulders, chest and back; he still didn’t understand why his father could possibly think he’d want a ‘companion’. Standing with her hands folded in front of her and her head bowed, she was the definition of simpering; it nearly made him retch. Hux waited until the door slid shut before he spoke.

“Your name.” She looked up to answer but she wasn’t fast enough. “ **Your name, girl! Are you mute?!** ”

 _“Lucilla.”_ He almost didn’t hear her over his own bark; she was quiet and positively petrified, her voice gentle and sweet which only made his impression worse.

 _“_ _Lucilla.”_ He repeated her name with disgust as if it were a vile curse word. Her accent was Coruscanti, he could tell that much. Whether she was actually from Coruscant or she had just been taught to speak that way for appeal was another matter.  “Lucilla what?!”

“ _I don’t know_.” He arched a mocking eyebrow at her. He’d heard of these; heard how the prettiest orphans were handpicked, trained, their confidence knocked constantly to ensure they were broken and completely submissive to whoever purchased them when they were old enough. Kept as slaves, usually sexual; their primary market was powerful, egotistical and often cruel men. And now he had one in his quarters.


	2. To Keep Or To Release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you love something, set it free. If you don't, keep it and make it suffer.

Lucilla noticed everything on her first night, right down to the time that he had returned. After the General barraged her about her name; he ignored her, pretended she wasn’t there and this was her opportunity. She knew what she had to do: Gather the information she needed to make herself useful and therefore persuade him to keep her; Finalizer didn’t seem so bad as long as she stayed out of the way. If she couldn’t manage that, it was very possible she’d be disposed of or returned to where she came from.

 

His pattern was obvious, clear and logical. She noticed how he shrugged off his greatcoat and hung it up beside the door, she noticed how he’d run his hands down the length of it to prevent any position that might cause it to crease overnight. His gloves were then stripped off and tucked carefully into the pockets of the coat for easy access in the morning. She watched as he poured himself a glass of something (she didn’t know what it was but she took note of what bottle it came from and how much he poured) and carried it towards one of those armchairs, ignoring her as she shuffled hurriedly aside since it seemed he had no intention of stopping for her. The glass was placed down on a tall, small surfaced table between the two armchairs; the only other thing on it was a holopad; it was merely a temporary resting place as his boots were eased off and set aside neatly.

 

Both glass and holopad were seized, sitting there for literally hours; combing through information, taking the occasional sip and disregarding his gift as she stood there. When the glass was drained, he set it down on the table, followed by the holopad and got to his feet. He bent backwards and the loud crack that resulted made Lucilla flinch; thankfully, he was still ignoring her not to notice it. When he straightened up, he headed for the sliding doors she had not ventured towards and suddenly, the room plunged into darkness. She was left standing there alone to figure out a sleeping arrangement for herself.

 

* * *

 

 

Dressed and ready to command Finalizer, the General left his bedroom and was faced with the dark haired female curled up on the floor in front of the dying and dead embers of the fire; seeking heat like a dog, like some pathetic beast. Still fast asleep with her hair coiled under her face like a pillow; the way her body curved towards the fireplace made her look strangely serene and at peace. He reclaimed the armchair to pull his boots back on, unintentionally maneuvering in such a way to avoid her. He eyed her with disdain; even when she was asleep and neutral, she annoyed him. In some sudden rush of cruelty, Hux hauled back his leg and drove the sole of his boot hard into the sleeping girl’s back. She woke instantly with a delicious yelp and immediately dragged herself out of his leg’s reach with a wounded gaze as if fearful he would strike her again.

 

“Get up.” He snarled with disgust before doing so himself and with watering eyes, Lucilla picked herself up despite the harsh ache in her back and waited. No instruction, no interaction; nothing. In the corner of Lucilla’s mind that made this situation _normal_ ; it meant that he was taking notice of her, that she was in fact there. That unwarranted wickedness was their only communication on that first morning as master and slave. Unperturbed by his actions, however, he left for the bridge, leaving his gift behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

He didn’t like that he found himself thinking about her in any capacity while he was working. His lip curled upwards with distaste as he recalled the way she’d looked at him that morning when he’d kicked her; she was a miserable excuse of a human being and he wanted her removed. He didn’t care what happened to her as long as his quarters were his own again; his father had (in a roundabout way) suggested that he keep her and bed her, let her remain with him as a bed warmer but he wanted her nowhere near his bed. She was already too close as it was by warming herself at his fireside. Besides; who knew what she had? She may have been pretty but she was an urchin of unknown origin; there was no telling what she was carrying or who she had been with before; the very idea of it almost made him see his breakfast again. It would have been reckless to place not only his wellbeing but also his reputation on the line for the sake of that weak minded creature.

 

She didn’t even appeal him. She had literally stood for hours as he relaxed the night previous; how broken was she?! Submissive was one thing but this girl was another. It was clear every ounce of confidence and self-respect had been stripped from her in anticipation of shameless servitude. If he had any mass in himself for her, he would have pitied her. He didn’t, his mind was made up, she was leaving that night.

 

* * *

 

 

He had arranged transport for her to a nearby planet; two Stormtroopers waited in the corridor to escort her to it. The General was caught off guard when he arrived back in his quarters that evening though; she waited for him by the door. Everything was clean, neat and orderly; not that his quarters were anything but well kept. Pale hands reached up and removed the coat; sliding it down his arms which he numbly let her do.

 

It was hung up and caressed the way he always did to keep the creases out. He allowed her to remove his gloves; tugging them off, allowing the air to grace off his skin and tuck them into the pockets of his coat. He recognized the routine as his own. She had been observing and taking notice the night before. He watched her, confused, as she left him by the door and took the glass he had left the night before (she had cleaned it during the day) and poured from the same bottle he had savoured the night before. It was filled to the same level and with that done; she stood beside the chair, glass in hand and waited. She did not look at him throughout the process. Eye contact was submissively avoided. Somewhat dumbstruck, Hux turned and opened the door to find himself face to face with the Stormtrooper duo.

 

“Postpone the transport until tomorrow.” The door cut him off from the Troopers so he made the decision to see where this would go.

 

He didn’t notice the change in wardrobe. Instead of the sickly powder blue dress that almost given him a headache; she wore a slim line, slip-like dress of black silk. It fitted in with the room, as if she was becoming part of the furniture. It seemed his father had sent on a variety to pique his son’s interest. So far, it wasn’t really working but time would tell. His grudging curiosity was maintained as he crossed the room to the chair where she waiting. The glass was handed to him as was the holopad and before he knew it; she was on her knees in front of him.

 

It was not a sexual action but it would be easy for it to be initially mistaken as one. She was trained to _never_ initiate sexual contact. For her to do so indicated she was placing her needs above her master’s and that was unthinkable. If he wanted her, he would take her and she would accept without protest. Even if he didn’t voice it; she knew how to read the signs and how and when to act upon them. With effort for such a frail female, his boots were removed and he was vigilant of the process. If she scratched or scuffed them, there _would_ be trouble. Luckily for her, the chore passed without incident.

 

He settled back in the chair with the holopad and the intention of resuming his ritual but something made him stop. She had peeled away his socks and set them aside to wash them later. He scrutinized her again as she performed the unsolicited task, waiting for an excuse to lash out at her. Surprise gripped him again when those dainty pale hands took his left foot and gently but firmly massaged her fingertips into the skin. Involuntarily, Hux sank back in the chair and allowed his breathing to deepen in relief and enjoyment that he didn’t think he’d ever felt. It was certainly welcome after being on his feet in the command centre for the vast majority of the day.

 

Eyes barely open, he stiffened almost in protest when she released his foot but relaxed again almost immediately when she took his right. It was as if she hadn’t received such a (literal) rude awakening that morning with the care and attention that she paid to the duty she currently (and willingly) undertook. The ginger General’s mind was so listless that the thought process of keeping her or disposing of her just couldn’t seem to form. But the decision was unconsciously made. Whoever had trained her had done so exceptionally well.


	3. Freshly Soiled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the General's assumptions about Lucilla appear not to be true.

It had been two weeks since the decision making foot massage. He’d kept her and the arrangement had been massively to his benefit. Their routine was more or less the same as the second night with a little added and nothing taken away. When his feet were soothed and he was thoroughly relaxed, the female would sit at his feet for some relaxation of her own just basking in the heat.

 

Sometimes, he would permit her to rest her head against his leg; the light pressure of it was oddly tranquilizing. He had ventured so far as to glide his bare hand emotionlessly but possessively through the dark curls in front of him, the way one would stroke a dog without thinking about it. She had become just that; a dog, a wordless companion. She was mostly silent, obedient and did like to be touched but he only did so at his own discretion. Some nights, he felt like he needed more. He didn’t crave it but if she was his to do with as he pleased then why shouldn’t he, no matter how small the inkling?

 

He had started to invite her to sit beside him. Not on the other armchair or the sofa, those were off limits. He perched her on the arm of his own chair and when the need for touch arose, he would simply rub his hand slowly up and down the silk covered expanse of her back. She was everything his father said she would be; servile and compliant but he would not do what his father had initially suggested. Even with the decision made to keep her and the proof that she was worthy to keep provided; she still slept on the floor. They never spoke. They were silent in their routine (which was only in the evening when he finished on the bridge). If, on the off chance, he gave her an instruction she would respond quietly with “ _Yes, General.”_  He never spoke to her or confided in her about the goings on of Finalizer. That was business; she didn’t need to know about it. All she needed to know about was his needs and wants which didn’t extend to very much. He was complacent with what they already had.

 

* * *

 

 

While commanding Finalizer was challenging and often frustrating, he dealt with it well and while he would not admit it, Lucilla _was_ a comfort and having her did help him cope. However, their pattern was broken one night when he returned earlier than normal; chest heaving and nostrils flared as he stomped into his bedroom.

“ ** _Lucilla!”_** He barked, violently kicking off his boots and dragging off his coat; tossing it with disregard into the chair in the corner. **_“_** ** _Get in here!”_** Caught off guard with her make up barely finished and barely changed into (one of) the black slip she figured he liked; she emerged from the bathroom with noticeable curiosity. He rounded on her when he heard the door and stared her down for a moment. He didn’t care anymore. That childish brat Ren had driven him into a rage though Lucilla wasn’t sure she hadn’t done anything wrong. “ ** _Take it off.”_** She stared at him for the briefest of seconds before he snapped at her like he had done about her name. **_“Take it off, Lucilla!”_**

****

Hux was so wrapped up in undressing himself that he didn’t notice the hesitation and the touch of nerves as the female pulled the dress up over her head and dropped it to the floor. He didn’t take the time to admire her or to appreciate that this was new territory.

 ** _“Come here.”_** Tame as always, she did as she was told. He was undressed by now but there were more pressing things on her mind than revering her master’s naked form. She knew it was coming; it was going to happen eventually. She was lifted and placed into a kneeling position on the bed; the guiding hand on her back and under her stomach bent her over onto her hands and knees. He wasn’t exactly gentle about it and he didn’t really check if she was aroused but she anticipated him anyway. Vexation and aggression drove his actions; he was not thinking of Lucilla and her comfort (not that he ever did), he was thinking purely of ridding himself of this agitation that Kylo Ren had riled.

 

Standing at the edge of the bed, he drove himself in mercilessly with an almost feral growl. The sharp gasp from the female ahead of him didn’t register as both her hips were grabbed and she was pulled back closer to him. He went from there with a barrage of solid, rough thrusts , enjoying the tightness of the female but it did not occur to him that it shouldn't have been that way nor would it have bothered him if it had. He had also tuned out the whimpers, the pants and the attempt to steady her breathing that didn’t seem to work; blanketing the restraint of pain. His mind was fixated on the smoking control panels and the sparking computer monitors with every brutal thrust into his young companion, not even hearing the heavily audible slap of skin on skin or his own groans of pleasure. With his eyes closed, he was succeeding in riding out the grievance. and he did not expect things to be different with Lucilla after tonight; he assumed they would carry on as they had been doing.

 

He certainly didn’t think of the consequences of his actions, especially based upon assumptions about her he had made himself. Needless to say, Lucilla was not enjoying the experience. Her eyes were shut tight and her teeth gritted almost painfully but this was part of obedience. _A few more minutes and it’ll be over._ Her whimpers and whines continued throughout until one last, vicious thrust told her that he’d finished. He stayed inside her as much as he could and covered her back with his chest, panting in her ear. With his mind clear of his annoyance, he could feel the woman beneath him trembling delicately but tense at the same time and her breathing didn’t sound right; his weight on her back didn’t help either. He leaned slightly to the side and saw the effort of containment in those pretty features. She appeared to be biting the inside of her cheek though he couldn’t understand why and he wasn’t about to compromise whatever it was they had by asking. She was his after all, he wasn’t supposed to care.

 

When he finally removed himself from her, he was kneeling on the bed as she was. His back straightened and he twisted slightly for that relieving _crack;_  had she not been so wrapped up in her own agony, she might have flinched at the dreadful noise _._ Whatever way she caught his eye though, in the way she crawled away from him; it made him stop. Surely it couldn’t be? He looked her over carefully, trying to deduce if it was in fact what he thought. But there it was; smeared on her folds and on the backs of her thighs. He looked down; he had been stained with it too. It took him a moment as he fought with confusion and something he hadn’t felt in a long time which he barely recognized as guilt.

 

“Lucilla?” She stopped what she was doing which was trying to get off the bed without sitting down so as not to stain the sheets. “Lucilla, is that blood?” Her confirmation was a silent look of shame. He stared at her. _Surely not?!_

“ **You…. You should have told me!”**

“ _I thought you knew….”_ Was the timid, almost spineless answer; the look of shame hadn’t dissipated.

 **“How was I supposed to know?!”** _“_

 _It was on his list.”_ He watched her still, incredulous; fighting to get his mind around the breakdown in communication, this list (whatever that meant) and what he’d just done.  

“I thought you….”

 _“_ _That I was a prostitute.”_  She finished softly for him and just then, it was impossible to read her.

“Yes.”

 _“_ _No. I’m something completely different.”_

 

* * *

 

 

"You were in pain." It was an observation, not a question.

 _"Yes, General...."_  

“Can you walk?” She was still kneeling at the edge of the bed and looking down as if assessing the distance.

 _“I think so….”_ The General got up and waited at her side of the bed to help her if she needed it.

“Shower.” Was the only word he said, trying to maintain the gap between them but it was difficult with what had just happened. She seemed the master the short journey to the bathroom unassisted (barely) though he followed hesitantly in case she needed stability. It was unsteady and it took time but she got there eventually. She was able to get in herself and tried to keep her hair over the opposite shoulder to keep it dry. As soon as it got wet, it took forever to get dry. What she didn’t expect, however, was for him to join her. Again, mainly for stability but he needed to wash off the blood too. She watched as it ran down her legs and gathered temporarily, mostly brown in colour rather than red and that was the end of that. The thing that had kept her expensive and longed for was gone.

 

He shut off the water and passed her a towel before leaving her alone in the bathroom to dry herself. He was only gone a few seconds. When he returned, he held the crumpled bundle of black silk she had shed when ordered. With her modesty reapplied, she exited the bathroom and headed for the sliding doors.

“Where are you going?” He inquired lazily from where he’d lay down on the bed. She looked mildly alarmed at the question; as if he was about to snap at her again.

 _“I…. I was going to go to sleep. Is there something else you want?”_ Hux sighed and rolled his eyes with temporary defeat.

“No. You may stay with me tonight. But **ONLY** tonight.”


	4. Questioning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With that barrier broken, the General takes the opportunity to find out a bit more about his companion.

 

The shock had more or less worn off by now; of course it had been unexpected. When one finds themselves gifted a woman, they generally _assume_ that she has experienced what her primary function is going to be. It seemed his father had made sure this wasn’t the case. In his rage, he’d left himself open to who knows what by taking her so recklessly. She could have had anything, any sort of disease or affliction that he could have caught. She didn’t look like she had anything of the sort but wasn’t the hidden danger of a woman like Lucilla?  At least he now knew there was no danger for him since he had been her first. Would it add a little complication to the relationship (if it could be called that)? Hard to say. She was bound to know what (could) have been expected of her eventually. If Kylo Ren hadn’t infuriated him, it might have been might have been months before he opened that avenue of exploration. If he opened it at all. And just as things were going so well. Bleeding aside, it actually hadn’t been a bad experience. From his perspective, at least. Did he want to repeat it? Possibly. He certainly felt more at ease after it. Maybe he’d been using her all wrong or just hadn’t discovered a deeper purpose for her. Until now. If he thought she was peaceful on the floor, it was nothing compared to the way she was currently. The General sat up in his bed and looked down upon the dark haired creature that had taken over the other side with little persuasion.

 

“Are you awake?” It wasn’t gentle but it wasn’t as unpleasant as his usual waking greeting. Her eyes were closed but her breathing wasn’t quite at sleeping tempo. It was more as if she was merely enjoying the rare comfort that only tonight had afforded her. There was still a dull ache in between her legs but it was starting to subside, hopefully it would be gone by morning; the bleeding had stopped some time ago. Those bright blue eyes flickered to life and her sweet, angelic features opened like a flower opened towards the sun. Confirmation that she was in fact awake.

 

 _“Yes, General.”_ He still had trouble with this. She was incredibly forgiving. Or was she just used to worse cruelty? On her first morning on the Finalizer, he had kicked her awake but that night, she had ever so carefully removed the boots that had left a (literal) imprint on her back that had only barely faded. Now, after decimating her on her first time; she looked at him with a devotion he knew he didn’t deserve but he would never admit to that.

 

“I wish to know some things. About you.” He doubted she’d lie to him.

 

 _“Anything, General._ ” She remained lying down and it only seemed fair that he allowed her to do so. He was the reason for her discomfort after all.

“Your accent is Coruscanti. Are you actually from Coruscant?”

 _“Yes, General.”_ That surprised him.

“Where on Coruscant?”

 _“The Undercity, General. Or at least that’s where I was found.”_ A rough, dangerous place; or so he’d heard. Where crime was rife, the poorest resided and where it was difficult to live due to the gases released from the planet’s core. She must have been quite a find; to someone in that business, she must have been a rare opportunity.

 

“You said something about a list.” Hux interrogated further, carefully watching the younger female’s reactions from above. “What list? What did you mean?” Lucilla had not seen the Admiral’s list. There may not have even been a physical list rather than just an oral collection of desirable qualities.

 _“Your father had a list of specific traits, both physical and mental, for your companion which he gave to the ones who found me.”_ Normally, they were not encouraged to divulge these kinds of details. But her master required the information and she would happily tell him what she knew; always the truth. “ _Based on the list, they selected who they thought might be suitable. We were all inspected and he chose me.”_ Her brilliant blue eyes traced the General’s features and found them marred with disgust, more so than usual.

 

“And…. What was on that list?” What did his father know about what he wanted in a companion?! Let alone compile a list of what she should look, sound and act like!

 _“From what they told me; he stated he wanted someone with dark hair, dark eyes though that was a compromise, small in stature, slim, appealing to the eye, medium breasts….”_ He hadn’t even noticed that detail but it seemed his father had kindly taken it into account for him. _“He said he didn’t care what my name was as long as it was pretty. Submissive, unquestioning and capable of being on her own for long periods of time._ ” She had essentially described herself, aside from the eyes. Hers were blue not that he made eye contact all that often. “ _And, well, untouched._ ” She had definitely been that.

“How old are you?”

 _“Twenty three, General.”_ Ten years younger than him.

“You know your age but not your second name?”

“ _We’re usually taken young enough not to remember the name if it is never mentioned again. It stops us looking for our families if we have any left.”_ So they weren’t always orphans either? The idea of it abhorred him. It was uncivilised. Taking children and turning them into slaves for money. Vast amounts of it he assumed. The General didn’t have a conscience as such but he knew a child was a child and it should be left that way. Not that he had any desire for them himself. He knew he wanted to know more but forming the questions was difficult when the answers so far had been so terrible.

“How old were you when you were found?” _Or taken._ But he restrained himself from adding that part.

“ _Six, General._ ” He could scarcely imagine a darling, six year old Lucilla, probably frightened and crying; found in the Undercity of Coruscant only to be sold into a lifetime of slavery. Slavery that would hurt her, demean her, maybe even kill her. Some of those girls didn’t have a very long lifespan with the malice they often endured.

“How much did he pay for you?” The necessary questions continued.

_“I don’t know, General. It usually depends on how close they can match to the list.”_

“But they got his list quite close?”

“ _Yes, General. Several thousand units but I can’t say for sure how much._ ” **_Several thousand units?!_ ** And yet, his father would have been complacent enough for him to kill her if he didn’t want her. Then again, how much was a human life worth? She answered his questions obediently and almost detached; as if they were simple facts of life and not actually horrible things that had happened to her. She really had been stripped of everything; confidence, self-worth, pride. All of it. Like as if she wasn’t allowed to be upset by these things. But if she had been an ordinary woman, not a slave or a submissive to the General; there was no doubt she’d be chased. Kind, gentle, sweet, pretty; she’d have her choice of young men who would gladly sweat to give her a good life. And here she was; a docile bitch to the General of the First Order.

 

“If I had known, I would have….” He wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. He didn’t know what he would have done. He’d spoken before he’d thought out what he wanted to say. There was a twinge of regret when he remembered the blood and how she had been stiff but trembling when he rested against her back. She had obviously been in pain but it was clearly against her nature and training to tell him so. It appeared Lucilla knew it was as close to an apology as she was going to get, not that she expected one.

 _“We don’t expect to be wined and dined, General._ ” Lucilla answered softly and her tone surprised him; as if she was trying to _comfort_ or _reassure_ him. “ _We know not to expect it. Those who buy us are not interested in it so we should not be either.”_ So now he was no better than the smelly, perverse old man on Tatooine or some other backwater planet who bought himself an eighteen year old to have every night until the day he died. Which would probably be from a heart attack on top of said eighteen year old.

 _“I’ve heard of worse.”_ If her position was different, she might have shrugged. There was that flippancy again. Like nothing that had happened in her life mattered. _Worse?! How? Unless she was raped, how could it be worse?!_ Though there was probably very little that wasn’t consensual to them, maybe she didn’t know what consent was.

“Dare I ask how it could be worse?” If he hadn’t been asking these questions of his own free will, she would not be giving this information. To do so unwarranted was to bore or annoy her master; speak only when spoken to.

_“A girl I used to live with; Aleen. Her master branded her on the rear with a fire poker after her first time.”_

 

The more she spoke, the more he realized that this was normal in some respect to her. She knew to expect it. But it seemed it had been instilled into her since she was six years old. It didn’t matter what she did or didn’t want. It was what her master wanted that mattered and to obey was to avoid punishment. How did they differentiate punishment from just unfounded barbarity? Maybe they couldn’t but anything to avoid it was worth doing.

“One more thing.” Lucilla’s periwinkle gaze directed upwards when he shifted a few inches in the bed towards her. When he pulled back the sheets, she automatically sat up and watched intrigued as he pulled up the slip dress to just past her stomach.

“I want to know…..” His almost cold finger found the crease below her stomach and above her womanhood that he had noticed in the shower. “What this is.” Lucilla’s scar was no more prominent or subtle than any of the other girls the Admiral had inspected. He had asked if there were any unmarked ones; he was told there weren’t; that it was standard. So he continued his selection regardless, figuring his son wouldn’t mind if his companion had one more scar than he did. For the first time since their strange conversation started, he saw the tiniest fragment of emotion creep into her features as her face fell slightly. If it had that effect on her, maybe he didn’t want to know but she answered before he could tell her not to. He almost wished he hadn’t asked the question.

_“They took my womb.”_

His hand jerked away and the blankets were replaced, perhaps to forget the interaction; forget that he had touched the now empty space where her natural incubator had been. The only thing since she arrived on Finalizer that she even came close to mourning for. Hux didn’t need to press the issue. He could figure it out for himself. Practicality. As a man of order and regimen, he could appreciate it. No womb: No need for contraception, he could only assume it was unpleasant for most men.

No menstrual cycle that might disrupt her purpose for anything from three days to a week. No hormones during that time that might make her even the tiniest bit aggressive. Spay her. Solve all those problems at once. Surely it was for the best? He couldn’t promise he wouldn’t be outraged if he came back off the bridge one night and found her more terrified than usual before choking out the words _“I’m pregnant.”_ He definitely wouldn’t be impressed with being grudgingly careful with her while she was swollen and fat with his unwanted bastards.

Nor would he relish walking down to the medical bay in the dead of night, following the sobs and cries of pain. The howls of effort  and crumbling roars of agony probably wouldn’t faze him. He would be able to do nothing but stand there and watch emotionlessly without intent to help or comfort her. And when that was done; to just walk away as she was weakly restrained against the gurney as the infant was taken from her. The walk back to his quarters would be less troubling even if he could still hear her screaming in the medical bay; wailing and begging when she realized her child wasn’t going to be returned to her. Only to do it all again and the cycle would continue. As much as it hurt her, it was better she didn’t have one.

“Go to sleep.”

“ _Yes, General_.”


	5. Glass and Gritted Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new experience for Lucilla is just one of the many things Hux wants her for. He makes an announcement that may or may not change things.

Naturally, the General had not yet admitted to his father (and he would try not to) about how his interest in Lucilla had developed. It would mean conceding to him that he did in fact have some kind of inkling into how his son’s mind worked, despite claiming originally that he had no use for such a creature. Now he did. Plenty of use. In some horrifying way, his conversation with Lucilla had eased him greatly. With that kind of clarity, he could continue to have her as he had that night (however accidentally). His mind was at ease about infections, contraception and her origins; what else could he ask for? He had watched her sleep that night in unrivalled comfort; watched the peace in her face and the way her chest would move when she shifted her position ever so slightly. He took in the way the mass of black curls splayed across the pillow and the sweet, clean smell that radiated off them; off her.

 

She shouldn’t have been some cruel man’s plaything. There were others more suited for that; this one was far too innocent, too docile. Then again, wouldn’t that be what a domineering man craves? Hux couldn’t deny that while her simpering demeanour had disdained and even disgusted him once, it certainly helped that he now knew why she was this way. It wasn’t her fault. The situation had been cruelly out of her control. With that conversation in mind and the way he saw her sleep; he found he was starting to pity her. He might even become fond of her. Their nightly ritual resumed with one or two changes though it would vary from night to night. This night in particular though, their routine had started out as normal. His boots had been removed (he trusted her more with the exercise now than he did before), his socks had been stripped off and his feet attentively rubbed to ease out the kinks his stride had ironed in. Glass in hand and holopad ignored on the table, his head was tilted back against the armchair with his eyes mostly shut.

 

His breathing was deep in enjoyment and his body completely at ease with her. His spare hand gently clasped the back of her neck, barely holding her steady from where she knelt in front of him. Her hands rested on his clothed thighs, smoothly brushing them up and down in a careful and tender fashion. Her eyes would heighten every now and then to monitor his face and his reactions; every time she did so, she was thrilled by what she saw. His hand would move with her head as her lips passed breezily over his shaft; a new experience for them both. He would tense every now and then when her tongue would graze a sweet spot. His hips would slowly gravitate involuntarily towards her and the longer her head was in his lap, the more confident in the endeavour she became. Hux’s hand left the back of her neck and entangled in the obsidian curls as a small groan greeted her efforts. Lucilla continued and despite what she’d heard, it wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Then again, her General was clean. He prided himself on a pristine appearance and hygiene both above and under his uniform. Needless to say, his companion benefited from it. He pushed in a little further and her breath caught in her throat but she persevered.

 

 _“Good girl….”_ He uttered, almost strangled and she felt a little flutter of pride in her stomach at the praise. He was merely holding the glass for effect by this point or maybe he’d forgotten it was even there. One of Lucilla’s hands stopped caressing his thigh and she felt the need to further the contact. Her gaze trailed up as though seeking permission but his vision was completely sealed off from her by now. So (even after slight hesitation) her hand moved in and daintily cupped the fleshy sac at the base to rub ever so respectfully, just below her mouth.

 

He stiffened again and his eyes opened, watching her with something akin to lust, something he hadn’t been acquainted with since he took on command of Finalizer. The mild kneading helped him crawl closer his own one sided completion. The grip he had on her hair tightened and his hips rolled in the chair towards her. She took it. She wasn’t sure how but she did. Out of pure instinct, Lucilla’s pace picked up to help him, like she could feel it and wanted it as much as he did. She felt her master brace himself.

 

An almost agonized snarl accompanied the gritting of his teeth as he sat forward automatically but without disrupting her position. Out of sheer ecstasy, the glass was tossed to one side so his other hand was free to roam her back; the need for touch was almost too much. Then she felt it; the most obvious signal that she had fulfilled her duty. A small trickle seeped from the corner of her lips and the rest of it stored in her cheeks which caused her to ease herself off him though she couldn’t go very far, he was still holding her. His hand remained on her back but her hair was released and her chin was gripped instead.

 

“Look at me.” He instructed quietly though still panting and those sweet, doe eyes obeyed. The image was perfected by the tiny streak of cum leaking from her mouth. He took in the view, exceptionally pleased but the icy eyes and demeanour would keep her guessing. “Swallow it.” She hesitated, never having done so before and it seemed to irritate him. “It won’t kill you. Swallow it.” He was colder this time and only when she gathered it together and swallowed it with an elegant gulp was he satisfied. Her semen stained chin was released and his hand relinquished her back. He tucked himself away and got to his feet as she scrambled to the side to let him past her. “I need a shower.” He informed her as he strode towards the double doors before pointing carelessly towards the shattered glass. “I want that cleaned up before I finish.”

 

Poor Lucilla. On her knees again but for a different reason this time. As carefully as she could, she picked up the tiny shards of glass and doing her absolute best not to cut herself. She managed not to. Only the Gods knew what he would have said or done if she had. With the glass safely removed into the trash receptacle, she spent the best part of ten minutes soaking up the whiskey with a cloth she’d found then drying the floor with disposable towels. The floor had probably never seen such a spillage since the General always kept his quarters impeccable. He didn’t come back out even after the flow of the shower cut off so Lucilla assumed they were done for the night. She would have liked to wash her face and brush her teeth but she couldn’t intrude on his personal space if he had decided he was finished with her. She’d have to wait until he left for the bridge in the morning. Lucilla curled up by the fire again in her simple black slip dress (it wasn’t the warmest of garments) so she was grateful for the heat. She had almost drifted off when the sound of the sliding doors disturbed her journey into slumber. Reluctantly, she sat up on the rug and waited for him to inspect the floor where the glass had been thrown. He didn’t even look at it. He simply stood at the door and started her down with his arms folded over his bare, freckled chest.

“Bed.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I leave for Starkiller Base tomorrow to oversee last minute preparations.” He told her pointedly, sitting up and looking down on her with a strange contentment as she snuggled into the deep pillow. Her eyes were on him attentively though and she had been allowed to clean her face and teeth. So….. She was going to be away from him? Even if she was, she would do what was expected of her in his absence.

_“Yes, General.”_

“I’ll have you sent for at noon sharp; you may bring one bag with you. Black slips only or grey but no white. It gives me a headache.” So he did actually notice what she wore? More to the point he had an opinion on it? Surprised, she would, of course, accompany him.

_“Yes, General. Black or grey only.”_

“One more thing, Lucilla.” Eye contact was never made but she gave him the closest thing she could. “The same rules apply as here. You will remain in my quarters on the base. You will not leave, you will not speak to anyone nor will you interact in any way with anyone. Your meals and laundry will be delivered to you and our routine will stay the same. Any questions?”

_“No, General.”_

“Good. Go to sleep.”


	6. She's Beautiful, Isn't She?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General and Lucilla arrive on Starkiller and get settled.

Strangely, when Lucilla woke the next morning, the General was gone. He had left her to sleep; stolen glances over his shoulder from where he sat at the edge of the bed as he dressed. She looked positively heavenly. Dark butterfly lashes lowered over the deep blue pools, her breathing was totally at ease while the rich black curls were slightly tousled from where they rested against the pillow and contrasted with her pale skin. At least he'd see her earlier than usual that day, intending to put her on his own transport at noon. One more glance back at the young female in his bed then he headed for the bridge. Going through her wardrobe to pack the single bag she had been allowed, Lucilla found herself with tough decisions.

 

 **" _Dress appropriately_."** He'd told her before she fell asleep. " **And dress warmly. It's going to be cold."** Naturally, she would comply. She’d have to leave most of it behind her so only the essentials, unsure when she’d be back to being the rest or if she would be back. She packed the slips first; strictly no white as he’d instructed. Two grey and four black were carefully folded into the bag, several pairs of underwear and whatever dresses she could fit in. Lucilla had always been a colourful dresser but since arriving on Finalizer, it seemed the bright colours were not appreciated. If change was required to please her master than change would happen. Luckily, it was only the colour of the dresses she wore rather than anything like her hair colour or something more difficult like that. She quite liked her hair colour.

 

* * *

 

 

So when the shy lieutenant (the one that stared every time he brought her something but never actually spoke to her) arrived just before noon to take her bag and bring her to the transport, she took one last fond glimpse back at the living area then left. Hopefully the long, dark green and slightly off the shoulder dress would be satisfactory to the General. As always, her hair was down and make up perfect; the lieutenant stared as usual. As agreed, she would not speak nor interact with anyone. Her guide included. The hem of the black cloak whispered along the cold metal floor behind her, the fur trimmed hood modestly covering her head and casting a partial, humble shadow over her face as she approached where her General waited. Others waited with him but he watched her especially, ignoring the lieutenant he’d sent to fetch her and her bag. Did his colleagues know they were waiting on the General’s plaything? Even if they did, what could they say? It was up to him if he wanted a _personal companion_ on board and while it might have started that way, he was certainly more than happy to have her now.

 

Lucilla was greeted with subtlety though she still avoided eye contact with the General. As per routine. In an uncharacteristic move, he offered her his arm, a means to (in a gentlemanly fashion) escort her to the shuttle. Whether it was for show in front of his colleagues or not, she wasn’t sure but she would submit as she was expected to do. It was up to him if he wanted to treat her like a lady or an animal. With that in mind, she took his arm and let him lead her. The transport passed without incident. He helped her into the shuttle and helped her out again before escorting her to his quarters with her arm in his once more.  It was unusual to say the least but she could not and would not complain. The General’s quarters were bigger than on Finalizer. Similar but bigger. The layout was the same and the furnishings were almost identical, the only difference was the window the stretched almost the full length of the living quarters.

 

Lucilla’s bag was brought in by Lieutenant Mitaka who seemed to only have two roles: bringing things to the General’s quarters and breaking bad news to Kylo Ren. He certainly had a preference in those two duties. And it wasn’t enduring a showering of sparks every time he needed to report to his superior. He didn’t know her name, no one seemed to. He had seen her the day she arrived, like everyone else on board and since then he had been charged with ensuring she received her meals on time and that anything ordered for her was brought to her. Again, it was a duty he didn’t object to. He stood and watched for a moment as the hood came down; she was lost in the expanse of stars outside the window, every twinkling diamond greeting her to her new surroundings. Feeling he had outstayed his welcome, Mitaka took his leave with one last glance at the dark haired female; craving the day that he’d have risen enough to have a companion of his own. He was rather taken with this one though.

 

* * *

 

 

The General’s usual homecoming time came and went. She was dressed, ready and waiting but no sign. So she sat on the windowsill and looked out, even the glass was freezing to the touch. She understood now why he’d told her to dress warmly, the walk from the shuttle to the base itself had been chilling. Still, looking out at the snow was oddly comforting. The bluish tint to it reflected from the sky relaxed her and the sight of so much of it alone was fascinating.

 

“Lucilla.” Her name made her jump and she realized then that doors were quieter on Starkiller than they were on Finalizer.

 _“General, I’m so sorry. I….”_ Before she could finish the sentence, he finished it for her. She was already easing off his greatcoat when he did so.

“Got distracted. Yes, I can see that.” He didn’t sound angry or put out. Slightly amused by her fluster if anything.

 

“My conference ran a little long with obvious answers to tedious questions. I got back as quickly as I could.” With his gloves stripped, he helped himself to the armchair to the right of the fireplace, closest to the window. “Whyren’s tonight, Lucilla.” He told her casually as he made himself comfortable. She’d know what that meant and so put down the bottle she had in her hand and picked up the most expensive and strongest one. “It’s been a long but essential day and I’d like to finish it right.” The glass was poured and carried over as it always was before her place was taken on the floor to remove his boots.

 

“Stop.” Lucilla looked up with an almost petrified confusion, fearful she’d done something wrong or she’d poured from the wrong bottle; she hadn’t but where her master was concerned, the routine was sacred. “Stand up.” Wary, she did as she was told and waited. For a moment, there was nothing. He just watched her with his head tilted. “Take it off.” Compliant, she removed the grey slip dress and passed it to his outstretched hand. Lucilla straightened herself, naked in the living area with the fire warming her back under the scrutinizing eye of her master. Again, nothing.

 

He just sat and watched her, eyes roving. It had occurred to him earlier in the day (during that draining conference actually) that while he had seen her naked, he’d never actually _looked_ and _appreciated it._ So that had been on his mind on his way back to his quarters. His icy gaze swept from her shoulders to her chest, stopping at her breasts (the pert, medium size his father had specified) and rosy nipples then down her stomach and lingered on that familiar scar. One would think that the garish mark would take away from the otherwise perfect specimen but no. It gave her character if nothing else. That dragged his attention to her hips. She might have been a small and petite female but her hips looked particularly strong for a woman of her size. A shame they were wasted though or maybe it wasn’t, he’d had this fight with himself before. Before he could take any more in, the com from outside the door buzzed. Lazily, he looked in the direction the noise had come from and rolled his eyes.

 

“Yes?!” Before Lucilla could even try to cover herself or to ease back the slip, he rounded on her with a growl. _“Don’t.”_ The door opened to grant Lieutenant Mitaka entry and he took a few steps inside until he spotted the naked female he admired on a daily basis. Mitaka was unable to blink though he wished to the Gods that he could. He was just staring with his mouth dry. The silence spanned a few seconds until the General sliced it.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“G…General…. They’ve run the di…diagnostics again…. Everything is….Fine.” Hux glanced over the arm of his chair and while Mitaka was nervous by nature, he usually had better control of that stutter. Lucilla seemed to be the reason he didn’t. Lucilla’s eyes stayed on the floor and her arms remained dutifully at her side; all attempts to cover herself forgotten.

“Is that all?”

“Y…Yes, General.” His eyes flickered from his lieutenant to his naked companion. He reached out and dragged the nails of his left hand lightly down the soft, supple flesh of Lucilla’s stomach, leaving four pink, vertical marks on her milky skin. It didn’t hurt as such but she shuddered at the contact, his hand cold from the glass.

“She’s beautiful; isn’t she, Lieutenant?”

“Y…Yes, General…”

“Dismissed. I’m not to be disturbed again tonight.”

“Yes, G…General.”

 

When Mitaka left, Hux continued to examine his companion. He’d meant it; she _was_ beautiful and the more he sat and marvelled at her, the more obvious it became. The glass was set down and Lucilla waited.

“Come closer.” Obediently, she became fully within his reach and with a strength it didn’t look like he had (he wasn’t short on height but his muscle capacity didn’t seem to match his rank), the female was swept up and adjusted so she was straddling his lap. They were so close now that every lusty breath he drew, she could feel it sweeping over her skin. “I think we’ve established Mitaka has a soft spot for you.” It was dangerously quiet and the reverberations of it in his chest could be felt in hers.

 _“He’s always like that, General.”_ She responded with a taint of nerves. Sometimes, his temper could be unpredictable. _“He always stares but I’ve never heard him speak until just now….”_ Hux’s eyes raked Lucilla’s angelic features, looking for any ghost of a lie. He found nothing but worried devotion.

“I don’t have to worry about what goes on when I’m not around; Lucilla, do I?”

 _“No, General. Never.”_ His hand stroked up and down her spine possessively while his other hand went between her legs; he savoured her stiffening when she felt it.

 _“_ You know who you belong to, Lucilla, don’t you?” One long, index finger found the crease at her opening and caressed it which made her answer falter.

 _“_ _Yes, General….”_ Came the sweet whine that completed his evenings. Placing a light kiss in between her breasts, he stayed there.

“Who do you belong to, Lucilla?”

 _“_ _You, General.”_ She answered, gently grinding against his finger for some bare relief. _“Only you.”_

 

Lucilla’s back hit the new, firm mattress of the General’s unchristened bed. He was on her without too much of a delay, shredding his uniform with urgency and fervour; tossing it unceremoniously over the side of the bed. There were more in the closet; she could attend to the one on the floor in the morning. He was panting with animosity as if going by pure instinct, almost like he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with her. He quickly eased his mind by diving straight for her neck. She’d roused him in a way she never had with her whimpered pledges of loyalty and now, he _needed_ her. The cries of pained enjoyment simply fed the primal burning at every suckling bruise, at every nip, at every bleeding bite mark; she’d feel it when she woke up. He held her chin to turn her and adjust her; a guarantee that no patch of skin would be unmarked.

 

Both naked bodies writhed; one exerting its dominance, the other accepting its submission and the two seemed to feed off each other, two sides to the same coin. It was clear he was eager to sate the carnal urges when he held her where he wanted her and drove himself in with little mercy or compassion for the tiny female. Automatically, Lucilla’s face contorted as she took him all the way to the base; one would think she’d be used to such treatment by now but no. His hips swung back, withdrawing himself to the absolute minimum before forcing his way back in again. His brutal barrage of quick, harsh thrusts was in full swing and he hadn’t actually realized how satisfying it was to look at her face while he moved. Her leg was grabbed and thrown up over his shoulder, relishing the sob of pleasure he received both from the pull of the muscle in her thigh and the extra depth he’d gained by doing it. He leaned in as close to her as he could get, his forehead almost touching off hers.

 

“ **Do you know what he’s doing right now?!** ” He was referring to Mitaka and she knew it.

“ _N…No, General_.” She quaked with every damaging thrust.

 **“He’s in his quarters, thinking about what he saw! Thinking about you!”** He wasn’t jealous. At least that’s what he told himself. But who did he have to blame? Who invited him in? He did. The boiling fuelled the savage movements; she would definitely be sore the next day. “ **He’s** **touching himself, wishing he was in my position right now!!”**

 

Whether he was or not, it was impossible to know but Hux seemed convinced. He couldn’t blame the alcohol either. He’d abandoned almost a full glass when Lucilla became too much for him. He was just tied up in the eroticism of the whole encounter that was the most likely explanation. He subsided into heavy groans of pure ecstasy, paired with her weaker whimpers and whines; combined, they reflected their enjoyment. His hips knocked hard against hers each time they met but he didn’t seem to notice. That soft, delicate skin would be decimated but he’d count every bruise with pride; marking his territory like some cruel alpha male. He didn’t know how long he pounded her fragile frame against the mattress but he was suddenly hit with the realization that he couldn’t hold on for much longer.

 

With that notion in his head; his hands balled into tight fists, his knuckles white as he pressed them down hard against the bed on either side of her. His last thrust was especially hard and was delivered with an almost agonizing snarl as he came in the barren female. His face buried in her chest for a moment, his own heaving and his heart hammering before rolling off and making himself comfortable; there was nothing quite like a ruthless fuck to blow off the steam of command. Mostly satisfied but not completely, Lucilla caught her breath and pulled back the sheets but her General stopped her.

 

“Get back in here.” His eyes were closed but she did. “You’re staying here tonight.”

 _“_ _Yes, General….”_ She answered, hoarse from moaning and the pressure from the various degrees of damage he’d done to her neck and throat.

“No make-up on your neck tomorrow.” He’d nearly succumbed to slumber. “I want to be able to see every bruise.”

 _“_ _Yes, General.”_

“Go to sleep.”


	7. Overstepping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starkiller is taking its toll; the General is suffering and Lucilla's pleas for his well being fall on deaf ears.

The General restrained the urge to reach out and touch her. One hand was busy and the other gripped the arm of the chair as if it was the only thing keeping him from going into a complete frenzy. She wasn’t even fully naked. Then again, neither was he. Not even partially. Lucilla stood barely five feet away, topless with her hands by her sides and just out of his reach. He wanted to touch and she would come to him in an instant if he called her but he kept himself in check for his own pleasure.

 

Hux’s breath stammered in his throat as his eyes roamed the pale expanse of her chest and stomach, lingering of course on her breasts. The only thing saving her from being completely disrobed were the two long strips of black fabric; one at the back and one at the front on a tight silver hoop closed tight around her waist, covering the essentials. She regarded her master with a tempting curiosity (feigned just for him) and watched as he panted and fought to control the urge to summon her; the hand in his trousers still throttling himself with vigour. She was not permitted to touch herself, only to watch him do so.

 

His companion’s attire (or lack of it) was drunk in; she was technically a slave, why shouldn’t she dress like one? She didn’t object to it (obviously); she looked like she was enjoying the view before her if anything. His routine glass of whiskey sat untouched on the table and his holopad gathered dust, not having been used for days. Why would he when he had a far more pleasing form of entertainment that would do _exactly_ as she was told?

 

He couldn’t deny himself anymore; he needed the extra touch, her touch.

“Come here.” It was choked and just as he relinquished himself, she was on her knees in front of the armchair, her whole body fitting in between his legs. “No.” Her hair was grabbed and her head pulled back; he didn’t want her mouth. Not yet. A quiet gasp left the female as she felt the tightening against the roots of her hair follicles and it was then clear what he wanted. Instead, both pale hands resumed where he’d left off. The General loosened his grip on Lucilla’s hair but didn’t release it; he needed something to hold on to.

 

With his body relaxed back in the chair and those silky curls rubbing gently in between his bare fingers, Hux’s eyes closed at the same action he had given himself but a very different sensation. His own hand was strong, his older skin was calloused and worn from command and the way his gloves grated him from constant wear. Her skin, however, was almost the complete opposite. Her hands were smaller, softer and her satin skin less worked than his. Hers were a welcome change from his own. She continued to move using the power in her wrists to mimic his previous movements to the beautiful sound of her master’s pleasured sighs. Lucilla would dare a glance up every now and then and could see purely from his face that she was fulfilling her task both correctly and with appeasement. That said; there was very little they hadn’t engaged in by now.

 

The urgency for a more intense tactility slowly started to rise in the General. He was enjoying her hands but he wanted to cover more than that tonight. Since their arrival on Starkiller, his role had become more and more demanding and that had a ripple effect on his relationship with Lucilla. Not negatively but to put it delicately, he made her earn her place in the bed beside him. And, to her credit, he was yet to retire unsatisfied though he probably couldn’t say the same for her. 

 

"Now.” He declared, fighting to keep his voice even but she wasn’t fooled. She’d been watching him, she knew the effect she was having but getting cocky was out of the question. Upon his command; Lucilla’s hands went to his thighs, her head was positioned and the hand in her hair tightened again at the initial lick then the engulfment of the warm moisture of her mouth. He ordered her pace. The grip in her hair (at the base of her skull) was used to guide both the direction of her movements and the speed of them.

 

His dictation was rough; he liked it that way, he also liked the way she fought to keep up and the way her moans were muffled by his shaft in her mouth. However, he couldn’t claim to be silent throughout the encounter either. He was far from it. Disciplined and well trained as the General was; there was no First Order training for controlling oneself when a beautiful woman (ten years ones junior) explored one in such a sensual way.

 

“Lucilla…..” The laboured breath made her look up but she didn’t stop. Again, eye contact was never made. She tended to look just to the top of his sharp cheekbone while her own pinked cheeks were sucked in to accommodate him. He wanted to see her, to watch her with every stroke of her lips and every grace of her tongue over his shaft. A sight he more than enjoyed. Before Lucilla, it had been years since he’d been involved with this kind of activity but since he opened her, it was almost a nightly occurrence.

 

Hux held out for another few minutes until he harshly tugged her off him, followed by an unladylike string of saliva that still connected to his tip. His face was brought down close to hers so they were only mere millimetres apart; his eyes roved down, taking in the unsavoury string with almost sick delight. 

"Where do you want it?” She knew what that question meant. He had started to ask it recently, almost as if to give her some bit of power (though not much) within their strange dynamic.

 _“Inside me, General.”_ The smaller female answered longingly and without hesitation but the grip on her hair was maintained.

“Where inside you?” It didn’t take much thought.

 _“Dripping out of my slut hole, General.”_ Came the sweet, yearning whimper that he just couldn’t deny. He loved that answer.

 _“_ Good girl. Lie down, knees bent. _”_ Without question, protest or hesitation, Lucilla pried herself out from between her master’s legs and did just that.

 

The rug in front of the fire was usually their go to for this kind of behaviour and tonight was no different. Her bare back settled against the warm material with her legs open and knees bent as he’d directed. He was in between them once he’d taken the time to stand over her for a moment to appreciate what he was about to have. Another thing he had started to do. After all, she was something to behold, his Lucilla.

 

She had been commented upon after their arrival to Starkiller, he’d been asked about the dark haired creature he’d brought with him in the transport. Mere curiosity on his colleague’s part, nothing sinister but still, it made pride and greed flare simultaneously. She knew better than to move the strip of fabric covering where he’d want to go; he’d relish doing that himself so she would leave it for him. She’d been correct. When he ripped it aside, he found all the pent up arousal she’d dutifully kept hidden as she tended to him.

 

The skin between her legs was coated with a light, sticky glazing that invited him in to the thrill waiting inside and he would accept with fervour. He didn’t enter her yet; he simply pressed himself against her to get a reaction. Of course, he got it. That delicious biting of her lip, the very subtle increase in the way her chest moved and the way she looked down, pleading. All little things she did when she wanted it but couldn’t voice it.

 

Hux decided to relieve her; she’d been well behaved tonight. His stiffness was well met with her wet heat and the mutual sounds of appreciation when he stopped to let it settle when he was fully sheathed was proof of how their companionship had developed. A few small, gentle strokes graced the female first but they both knew it wouldn’t stay that way. His thrusts slowly but surely started to pick up as their joint lust started to deepen, one hand gripped her knee and the other just roamed with almost tenderness.

 

The closer he leaned in to the younger female, the more he could see of and admire the marks he had left a few nights previous though they were starting to fade now. He would have to replenish them but not that night. Her lot was set for that night and it didn’t involve putting her through pain. While the General was free to touch Lucilla when and how he liked, that favour was not reciprocated. She had a place; a submissive, servile place and fond and all of her as he was, she would remember that place. She was not his wife, she was not his partner; she was his, a piece of property and she would be treated as such.

 

“What are you, Lucilla?” Her master huffed but determined through the effort of the now bruising thrusts into his companion.

 _“I’m a whore, General.”_ She whispered in a desperate attempt to please.

“Whose whore are you?”

_“I’m your whore, General.”_

 

He was close now, he could feel it. Brief and all as this was, it was simply for variety for Lucilla and to bring himself to completion. The soft whimpers from below drove him on, encouraging him to continue the harsh barrage of thrusts and savour the way her breasts would jerk against his chest with every crushing movement. He had never been gentle; not the first time, not the second time, there was no point in expecting it. Even when she was ruined from the night before, there was no slack cut. It was a matter of adaption.

 

“But who else’s whore are you?”

 _“_ _No one, General. I’m your whore. Only your whore….”_ Those little whimpers of devotion had become an addiction. Since the incident with Mitaka, he needed them. He had considered giving charge of Lucilla’s meals and her clothes to someone else but decided against it. Hux knew Mitaka was meek and spineless. Whatever he felt for Lucilla, he would not act on it but the General could not be guaranteed someone else wouldn’t.

 

And that though infuriated him beyond comprehension. He felt her internal grip, hugging him and coaxing him, telling him it was almost time.The General’s eyes shut hard as his heart pounded brutally in his chest and his lungs struggled to keep up with the animalistic swinging of his hips. When it became too much and he could no longer continue, he released it with an almost pained roar, close to wheezing in an attempt to regulate his breathing.

 

He didn’t collapse onto her; the General might not have been as heavy as his rank would suggest but this female was fragile. One wouldn’t think it with the merciless onslaughts she endured almost nightly but again, adaption was key for something like that. She took in the redness that had spread from his cheeks and up to his forehead, an indication that he had almost exerted himself too much. Leaning back, he removed himself from her and tucked his quickly softening member back into his trousers. Lucilla went to sit up but her master pushed her back down without a word.

 

Confused, the younger female complied and stayed where she was. He shuffled back not even a foot until he was even with femininity he had rushed so grievously only minutes before. Two fingers found their way in and delight swelled in his chest at the quiet, fluttering inhale they were greeted with. They were twisted and turned, almost as if he was looking for something, like twisting a key in a lock. Eventually he found it. When he withdrew and was once again face to face with Lucilla, his fingers were lifted to her mouth where she obediently and eagerly started to clean the white not-quite-liquid off his fingers.

 

“Good girl.” He praised her again when his fingers were spotless. He repeated the action a few times until there was nothing left. She hadn’t necessarily been clean about it either; she knew how he liked to see her mouth decorated. He eased himself off her but not before a light kiss was pressed to her forehead. “Get showered and follow me to bed.” _“_

_Yes, General.”_

 

They had been on Starkiller a week and already, things were starting to go downhill. He hadn’t touched her in three days. The night following the slave outfit; he had come back later than usual, stripped off his coat and gloves himself then went straight to bed, leaving Lucilla standing there. Bewildered, she had settled on the rug until he called her from beyond the sliding door. He offered no explanation; it was as if he had called her then drifted off almost immediately with his back facing her. The next day, he didn’t go to the command centre, he went to his office and stayed there. The next day, he stayed in the confines of his quarters though didn’t allow himself rest. He ploughed through reports, checking various holopads and he was still at it. His eating habits were out of swing; his sleeping habits certainly weren’t the same.

 

It didn’t matter to Lucilla if he touched her or not. His wellbeing was her concern. The last few nights and days, he seemed to be driven by pure adrenaline while exhaustion haunted him in the background. It was visible in his face, in the way he walked, the way he sluggishly dressed himself in the morning to haul himself off to wherever he was going. She wished they were back on Finalizer; this had never happened there. Starkiller was draining him, crippling him, weakening him. But his devotion to the First Order won out. Fatigue be damned, this had to be done.

 

He had sent Lucilla to bed, assuring her he would be in soon; that was eleven o’clock. She woke and checked the clock beside her: 2am and no General. His companion sat up in bed and weighed up her options. If she went out there to coax him to bed, she would be overstepping a boundary. She couldn’t tell her master what to do. Even if it was for his own good and wellbeing. She didn’t know the goings on of Starkiller; she had no idea she was inside a weapon.

 

The younger female was completely in the dark as to what her General was doing or its importance but surely it wouldn’t be taken well (by himself or others) if he burned himself out. She had to try. Lucilla pulled back the sheets and padded barefoot towards the sliding door and she found him instantly at the desk by the window. Pity crept into her chest as she watched him just weakly shaking his head over piles of paper and various holopads.

 

 _“General?”_ The sweet, gentle voice roused him but barely.

“Go back to bed.”

 _“But…._ ”

“I said go back to bed, Lucilla.” His companion hesitated before taking a few steps towards him. Her heart sank as she took in the hollows under his eyes, the black starting to creep in as if he’d been assaulted. 

 _"General, please…”_ From her new vantage point, she saw his jaw tense and nostrils flare.

“I won’t tell you again, Lucilla. Go back to bed.”

 

She couldn’t do it. He was exhausted, striving beyond reserves of energy he just didn’t have. Instead of obeying (and she had never disobeyed a command before), Lucilla decided her master was more important. Crossing the room to him, she realized she was taking a risk. Her hand rested lightly on his shoulder, his whole body tensing when she did. 

 

 _"You haven’t slept properly in days if you’ve even slept at all. You can’t continue like this-“_ Before she could get out another word, her hand was grabbed and he was on his feet, towering over her with one side of his lip curved into a furious snarl. She was actually, purposely defying him.

“ **You’re overstepping!”** Came the savage growl. **“I told you to go back to bed, why haven’t you done it?!”** Lucilla hadn’t been afraid of her General for a long time. But it seemed that feeling was starting to uproot itself. _“_

 _You’re exhausted!”_ She protested, almost on the verge of tears both from fear and passion. _“You’re going to burn yourself out!”_

 **“THAT IS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU!! I FUCK YOU. THAT IS YOUR FUNCTION. MY WELLBEING DOES NOT CONCERN YOU. YOU LIE ON YOUR BACK OR GET ON YOUR KNEES WHEN I TELL YOU. THAT SHOULD BE THE EXTENT OF YOUR CONCERN. YOU DO NOT DISOBEY ME.”** Lucilla let that wash over her, she knew what she was. It didn’t change that she was in fact distressed by the situation.

_“_ _But…. I’m worried about you.”_

That was the wrong thing to say. Before she knew what had happened, Lucilla was on the ground with agony growing in her right cheek. He stood over her, chest heaving and his breathing loud with absolute rage. He didn’t say or do anything, just watched while she tried to figure out what had just happened though he couldn’t really see her with the way her hair had landed.

 

She had received the back of his right hand hard and fast against the side of her face with such force that if sent her tumbling to the ground. She lifted a shaking hand to her lip through her pained and distraught sniffles and when she removed it; the crimson was obvious against her milky skin. He could see that and some sort of vile righteousness stirred within him; she’d deserved it.

 

He could hear her restraining her tears, the rattling in her chest betrayed her and she probably knew it. In another bout of temper, Lucilla’s hair was grabbed and pulled in such a way that he could see her face. Yes, her eyes were blood shot and her cheeks were stained. Her lip was swollen and bleeding while underneath her right eye an expanse of red was starting to spread where blood vessels had broken. It would probably develop into a nasty bruise over the next few days.

 

 **“You will NOT do that again.”** He tried to keep himself even but that exercise was rather pointless now, the damage was done.

 _“_ _Yes, General.”_ The answer was weak and heartbroken; as simpering as the day she arrived. Disgusted, he relinquished her hair and stepped over her crumpled form towards the sliding door.

**“You’re staying out here tonight.”**


	8. Cornered Rabbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General tries to decipher what happened the night before.

When she was left alone, she just kind of stared at the sliding door as if the object itself had betrayed her. She had trouble grasping where she was and what had happened; whether she had just become too used to a certain treatment or the knock had been harder than she thought, the broken hearted female had no idea. He wasn’t coming back. The light under the door shut off and she was left lying there she had on like her first night though insignificantly more pain.

 

It took a moment for her thought process to come back and her place was taken on the new rug. She could take comfort in one small thing though; she’d been successful in her endeavour. Her goal had been to get her master to bed, to help him to ease his exhaustion and it worked. Admittedly, it had been a sacrifice on her part but wasn’t that what this was all about? Devotion? Yes, her face was sore, her lip was cut and she had wounded herself internally by disobeying an order. But he was more important.

 

Starkiller was colder than Finalizer. Curled up in the warmth of her master’s bed, she didn’t notice. But that large window had been both a blessing and a curse. For Lucilla that horrible night, it was a curse. The fire (or what was left of it) kept her back warm but the cold pinched at her front and when she turned over, the effect was reversed but there was no happy medium. For the first time in a long time, Lucilla was cold.

 

The light might have been off but the General sat up in bed, fuming. _How dare she?!_ His exhaustion had been forgotten when she blatantly defied him and more than likely his voice had carried out into the corridor but he didn’t care who heard it. He’d hurt her. He had actually physically harmed her. But he felt nothing for it. No guilt, no remorse; that righteousness had died down and the more he thought about it; he wasn’t sure how to feel.

 

She had a place; whether she had forgotten it or just ignored it didn’t matter. She had overstepped. Not only that but she had questioned him when he told her to return to bed, made him repeat himself. He shouldn’t have had to do that. With that remembered, he was strong in his resolve. She deserved to be punished. Insolence and disobedience were not tolerated in the First Order and whether she knew it or not, by being his property, she was also the property of the First Order.

 

What the General did not see (or chose to disregard it when she said it) was her obvious concern for his wellbeing. It hurt her to watch him ambling around like a zombie, surviving on coffee and the brief snatches of rest he only caught when he passed out on the desk but being unable to do anything about it. Until she plucked up the courage to disobey him, at least. But it had been for a greater purpose.

 

The General surprised himself when he woke in the comfort of his own bed though it took him a moment to remember why the usual sweet smelling bundle of curls wasn’t beside him. He might have only slept for three hours but he felt significantly better rested than he did previously. It didn’t occur to him that that was what she had been trying to achieve. The empty space beside him bothered him. Insanely furious as he had been with her, his unconscious state had kept to his own side as if she had been there with him; like she had been every night since they got to Starkiller. His stomach ached, having forgotten what hunger felt like so he dressed briskly with the intention of being the first to eat though he would probably do so in his office.

 

Lucilla barely stirred when the sliding door was pulled back and for that, he was grateful. Curiosity got the better of him as he carefully approached the still sleeping female and looked her over. Underneath her eye was still a menacing dark pink, the area was swollen as was her lip with a decisive red slit etched into the soft flesh of her mouth. She slept with her arm under her face in case she moved a certain way that would disturb the healing process and cause her to bleed onto the rug. That wouldn’t be received well. Her chest rose and fell steadily, unaware she was being watched but the chilled goosebumps on her arms didn’t go unnoticed. Was that punishment enough? He’d decide during the day.

 

He decided that their routine was not his priority that night. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to see her. He stayed late in his office though he was hesitant to let himself get into such a state again. Of course, Lucilla’s sacrifice still wasn’t recognized. As usual when he was back late, Lucilla was sitting on the windowsill looking out at the snow. She had become more accustomed to the sound of the door and so was on her feet when she heard it.

 **“Don’t.”** She stopped mid-step at the harsh snarl and watched as he removed his own coat and stripped off his own gloves. He poured his own glass and observed her out of the corner of his eye as she slinked back to the rug, clearly unwanted.

 

She simply sat there with her knees drawn up to her chin and her arms wrapped around them, just staring into the flames disheartened. He’d often been cold and aloof but this was different. When he’d had a long or a hard day, to be looked after was always something he looked forward to but he’d never admit it or show it. He hadn’t refused her like that….. Ever. He’d probably get rid of her. And why shouldn’t he? She had endangered the sanctity of the bond a companion was supposed to have with her master that was based on unquestioning obedience. By voicing her concerns, she was putting her wants before his. Which was damn near unforgivable.

 

He stood at the cupboard where the bottles and glasses were kept and drank there, drained the glass then put it back where he’d taken it from. She’d know better than to leave it unwashed. He cast one last careless glance at Lucilla then headed towards the sliding door with the full intention of leaving her outside again. When he heard it though, it took him a moment to realize she’d spoken to him. That she’d initiated communication.

 

 _“_ _Did you eat today?”_ The quiet, dejected question left him stunned. His hand seemingly just lodged in the groove for pulling back the door while he tried to work out if he’d actually heard it. He had. Slowly, his head turned down to stare down the female, dumbstruck, to find she too had half turned her head though resisted eye contact. What did she have to lose? The damage was already done. If he was getting rid of her, he was going to do it; she wouldn’t be able to stop him. She expected him to hurt her again, to remind her of her place again.

 

To her surprised relief, he didn’t. He decided to ignore the question and continue into the room. With the door shut, he just stood there while confusion crippled his mind. _Had she learned **nothing?!**_ It seemed not. He sat on the bed to ponder it further, she really wasn’t afraid of the consequences anymore. Had he spoiled her? Let her think she was special? Maybe letting her share his bed was a mistake after all, despite what his father said.

 

His boots were removed but not as carefully placed as they would have normally been; this was an exercise of frustration. His usual method of blowing off steam was sitting out on the rug with a split lip and swollen eye but he had no doubt that if he called her, she would still come. With only half his attention, Hux removed his uniform and folded it though he missed the usual lines and creases that he followed to ensure that it was pristine for the next day; his mind was occupied.

 

Sitting on the edge of the bed in his lounge pants (he used them as bed clothes); he tried to piece it all together. He hadn’t noticed Lucilla’s pained glances and worried sighs the first few nights, it was only the night previous that her anxiety came to his attention. The redhead got to his feet and started to pace. There was nothing more irritating than being frustrated without really knowing why. Why though? It made no sense. She was a bed-warmer to him, she knew that. There was no love, no affection as such (maybe the odd touch or a kiss on the forehead but that was rare and spur of the moment); his treatment of her wasn’t really what one could call kind.

 

He used her as she was supposed to be used, that was the extent of the relationship. He already knew the answer but until now, it made no sense to him. When it hit him finally, it hit him like a ton of permacrete. _She was worried about him. His wellbeing concerned her. What happened to him mattered to her. It shouldn’t have but it did._ _She had connected with him in a way she wasn’t really supposed to. She was trying to go above her duty to help him even if it meant getting herself hurt in the process._

 

Lucilla’s slip dress wouldn’t keep her all that warm again tonight. The black silk he preferred (which she’d worn despite what happened the night before) came to just above her knee with the thin straps holding it up would not keep the cold the window attracted out. She was still awake but lying down when the door was thrown open. Immediately, panic seized her but his pace was so quick, she didn’t have a chance to go anywhere. Not that she would have; if she was to be punished she’d have to take it.

 

He was standing over her and the injuries just seemed so much more prominent and painful when she was awake. The cut in her lip seemed to have been irritated during the day, probably by something she ate while the swelling under her eye was starting to become more colourful. Half sitting up, the dark haired female had no idea what to expect but she looked up trembling regardless. Her chest heaved rapidly at the shallow breaths of fear she tried to gulp in like a cornered rabbit. When his hands moved towards her, she automatically cowered away with a tiny but audible whimper of terror but nothing came.

 

 _“No, I’m not….”_ He tried to explain helplessly but abandoned it halfway through, letting his hands drop back to his sides. The reaction had stirred something; a different kind of pity from before, a regretful kind. He couldn’t blame her for being petrified. Looking at her now; shrinking away from him, desperate and upset, he decided he’d been too hard on her.

 

There was no other way to do this. Rather than approaching her carefully where she might try to resist him again; he grabbed her instead. Not by the hair or by the arm or any other singular body part. He had stooped suddenly, slipped his arms under her legs and her neck then swept her up. A very brief scream of daunted surprise made him flinch but he adjusted her nonetheless and carried her towards the sliding door, if she was any bigger he probably wouldn’t have been able to carry her.

 

Involuntarily, she clung to him which he had expected, how was she to know he wouldn’t drop her out of vindictiveness? Lucilla’s apprehension didn’t diminish even when she was brought into the familiar surroundings of the bedroom and placed down in her usual spot with (startling) gentility. The sheets had already been pulled back; she was placed down and covered over. As if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened (and this was exceptionally out of the ordinary), her General walked around to his own side of the bed and laid himself down before covering himself as he had covered her.

 

Things were about to get a whole lot stranger. Lucilla lay stiffly on her side of the bed (and it was generally accepted that it was her side), fearful that this was some kind of cruel trick or punishment. _Nothing_ could have prepared her when Hux rolled on his side, shifted himself right over beside her, gathered her up into his arms and laid his forehead against hers.  

 

He was completely relaxed, the awkward feeling of waking up alone that had followed him throughout the day was extinguished but it seemed Lucilla was not as comfortable as he was. He felt it too. She was still frozen with absolute dread. He wanted to sleep but he couldn’t do so while she was so tense. With a small sigh, the male pulled himself back ever so slightly to take in her face. Of course, his gaze was drawn to the ominous darkening patch under her right eye. She said nothing, just watched him nervously with that ever present apprehension.

 

“I did eat today.” He answered the question she had voiced (out of concern) earlier, an offering of inclusive conversation.

“I had almost forgotten what Traladon tastes like.” It was a comfort to have the space beside him filled but she was still reluctant. The emotionless nod at his response brought it home to him. He freed one of his hands and went to touch the sensitive skin he had damaged the night before but she instinctively flinched away from him. It seemed the damage was more than physical. He didn’t know how to apologize. He had never been taught how to do so. He literally could not draw the words from his brain and drag them to his mouth. His father had always told him that to be sorry to be weak and to be weak was unacceptable. But he had been weak and she had put herself at risk to prevent it from going any further. He had to try something else.

 

“I don’t think you realize….” Hux began hesitantly; expressing himself verbally (or at all) wasn’t his forte either. “Just how important you are. I doubt I would have coped thus far alone without your company. Not well, at least. Last night I said and did things I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean to hurt you or to give you an unfair representation of what you are to me and I regret it deeply. Sometimes I do forget how delicate you are, how fragile you are but that doesn’t excuse it.” He struggled still, unsure of where to look; he kept getting drawn to where the bruise was going to settle for a week or so.

 

“I’m not accustomed to having someone concerned for me or my wellbeing. I don’t always recognize when I’m exerting myself so I just work through it until I cannot do so anymore and I’m not always in the best condition when I do.” He could appreciate that was what she had been trying to prevent and for the purest reason possible. Again, it occurred to him how she was wasted here with him. Hux was convinced there wasn’t another being (human or otherwise) like her anywhere in the galaxy and he was probably right. His free hand had taken to rubbing tenderly along her bare forearm and he was pleased when she relaxed slightly though there was still something of nervous doubt in her sweet face.

 

“Lucilla…” The sigh was light but he’d forced out most of what he’d needed to say. “If you wish to go back to Finalizer for some time alone, I understand. I’ll organize a transport for you in the morning.” She hadn’t expected that sort of consideration. Lucilla did feel more at ease now and while he hadn’t said it as such, she could read between the lines for the roundabout apology.

 _“No, General. I’d rather stay.”_ Her ability to forgive would continue to astound him.


	9. Promise Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General watches Lucilla sleeping and all matter of things go through his head.

Everything had changed. Her emotional and mental recovery was slow but it began after he carried her to bed. In a million years, the General never thought he’d have laid himself so bare like that for anyone; let alone a random woman that had just appeared on his ship one day. Then again, he never believed he would have reason to lay himself bare. She’d refused his offer of privacy and basically temporary freedom for a few days on Finalizer, declaring she’d rather be with him instead. If that didn’t show him devotion, nothing would. Devotion he wasn’t quite sure what to do with after what he’d done to her. What _did_ he do with it?

 

He had to wonder was that refusal down to loyalty or was she just afraid to take it? As if she might incur a wrath from her master when she was reunited with him or even before? There weren’t many cons to having Lucilla but reading her was one of them. It was impossible to know when she did or didn’t want to do something; when something was or wasn’t consensual and it struck him now that he must try harder to decipher it. He had thought it to himself on her second night on Finalizer and it would hinder this process somewhat: She was exceptionally well trained. She’d proved it the night he took her virginity (out of ignorance that she still had it) with minimum consideration and respect.

 

That particular incident had been obedience rather than consent, Hux knew that now. He knew that if given the choice, she probably would have said no. And why shouldn’t she? Who would want to be taken by someone they didn’t know and in such horrible circumstances and for such a pointless reason? More to the point because he felt he owned her? It wasn’t fair. She knew it was going to happen and yet she had no power over it; something that would put her in pain and was probably a monumental moment in her life reduced to degradation and waiting in agony for it to be over. If he had the chance to do it all again, he would have done it differently. He wasn’t sure how but he would have. He just didn’t know how many of their nights had been of the same nature; doing what he bid her because _he_ wanted her to.

 

The General remembered the night he’d bent her over his bed for the first time and not for that action, not in this particular case. He recalled it as the night she had expressed an emotion other than fear since her arrival and that was heartbreak. Thinking about it now, those were probably the only two emotions he had ever seen her display. He had never seen her genuinely happy. He couldn’t not notice the way her face had fallen when he reminded her she didn’t have a womb. That a possible key to happiness had been taken from her without her consent. The image was etched into his mind and there was no scrubbing it.

 

If she still had her womb and there were no precautions taken, there was no doubt she would be pregnant by now. That said; there was always contraception, there was always medication to curb her menstrual cycle. Reflecting on it, the more the cruelty of it made little sense. His initial coldness on the matter was revisited and even a fool could see she would have made a magnificent mother. Pregnancy would almost definitely suit her. She was so kind, gentle and patient with so much love to give; it was sinful to let that go to waste. He would have been a terrible father but she would probably have made up for it. A comfort, company, someone to curl up with at night, someone to care for them….. She was all those things for him already.

 

Finalizer and Starkiller were no places for children; what would he have done? Found some humble home to keep her in on some backwater planet? Would he have married her purely for legitimacy reasons? Maybe. Visit her occasionally and breed her when he got time? At least he mightn’t be distracted on the bridge when looking forward to his evenings back in his quarters. He wouldn’t be short of carriers for his name or his genes; that much would be certain. Their daughters would be chased; their sons would be admired; if they were anything like Lucilla, of course. The dark hair, blue eyes, pale skin and sweet disposition was a winning combination. If it had captured Hux’s imagination and attention, it must have been special.

 

All these thoughts clamoured his head as he almost fretfully watched her sleep. The cut on her lip was just as clear and the patch under her eye darkened; regardless of if he was sorry or not. He still held her though; she hadn’t said anything since she refused his offer of Finalizer.

“Lucilla?” She was a deep sleeper; he had gathered that much from when he got her. The eyelids flickered though and her body seemed to shift against his so he tried again. “Lucilla?” Like a blind being pulled up over a day lit window, Lucilla’s big, clear blue eyes opened and it took a moment for her to realize that she was actually awake. 

 _"Do you have to go?”_ The sleep-drenched Coruscanti twang asked and he assumed she meant leave for the bridge.

 

It was still only the early hours.

“Not yet, no.” The same reluctance was present in his voice as when he’d spoken to her a few hours previous. He had complete faith in his feelings (however strange to him); he was just worried about wording them. Paranoia was a bitch.

“Lucilla, I want you to do something for me.” 

 _"Yes, General…. Of course….”_ She couldn’t understand why he held her still as she tried to get up. Poor girl, she thought he wanted her to do something physical just then.

“Lie back down, Lucilla.” Confused, she did as she was told and continued to regard him with curiosity though eye contact was always resisted.

 

“I just want you to promise me something.” _Promise him something?_

 _“_ _Yes, General? Anything.”_ She expected another swearing of allegiance and he would get it, despite the events of the night before.

“I want you to promise me that if you ever find yourself not wanting to do something, you’ll tell me.” Lucilla stared as though unnerved by his request. 

 _"I… I don’t understand, General.”_ How did she not understand? What else could he possibly mean? Was she that badly broken that she didn’t realize she had a choice? He hadn’t reinforced it in the last few months admittedly but he was trying to change that now.

 

How did he rephrase it? From looking at her face, she genuinely didn’t know what he was talking about. She truly didn’t know the difference between obedience and consent. In fact, there _was_ no difference. There was no consent, only obedience. Dumbstruck, Hux tried to find a way to explain it but found it more difficult than he could have imagined.

“Lucilla….” He began uncertainly, releasing her and sitting up in the bed as if giving himself a distraction by giving himself something to do. “You know how we…. Spend our evenings? Usually in bed? After you remove my coat, my gloves and my boots?”

 _“Yes, General?”_ That was something. He wouldn’t have to go into too much detail.

 

The endearing look of curiosity still embraced those beautiful features. It was frightening how something so simple could be so alien to her.

“Well….. Those things we do…. You don’t have to do them.” Her confusion hadn’t changed or lessened in any way. It intensified if anything. _“_

 _But…. You want those things.”_ This was going to be more difficult than he thought.

“Yes…. But…. I can never be sure that you do.” Lucilla was quiet but it didn’t take away from the fact that this idea was foreign to her, her training was still pristine. 

 _"It doesn’t matter what I want.”_ Hux had to lie back down almost out of strained frustration.

 

“Lucilla.” The significantly smaller female was gathered up again but she wasn’t so uncomfortable this time around. “Look at me.” She did but only to the extent that she normally did. “No, look at me properly.” She hesitated so a hand was slipped under her chin to guide her gaze directly up to his. It was a very strange connection. It almost felt wrong to her; eye contact was sacred, it wasn’t for her to have but yet here he was, insisting on it. “It does matter.” He countered gently, their different shades of blues connecting. “From now on, you must tell me if you’re not comfortable with something or if you don’t want to do it. And I swear I won’t make you.”

 

Lucilla held his gaze despite everything she’d been taught and he found it to be incredibly charming for whatever reason. Hesitantly, he was given a small nod.

 _“_ _I promise.”_ Relief. Mostly for the General. The smears of blood on the backs of her thighs that night had stirred something terrible and at least now he could try and rectify it.

“We’re to return to Finalizer in the next few days.” He informed her, off topic. As if the whole out of character conversation hadn’t just happened. “My inspections are almost finished. The next few days will be intense but I know you’ll be patient.”

_“Always, General.”_

 

She kept her word. She wouldn’t allow him to slip again. She gave him room to collect himself but she would step in before it got too far. He knew now what her intentions were, how his best interests lay in her heart and he wouldn’t punish her for it again. She saw the looks of regret and grief that took over his pale features whenever his eyes graced the purplish blue mark that had developed under her eye. Her lip healed more quickly but she made every effort to mask the bruise with a more intense make-up routine. At least until it disappeared completely.

 

The night before they returned to Finalizer, he was almost in the same state he was when he lashed out at her. Lucilla left the bedroom just after midnight, barely an hour after he sent her to bed. Her General was still sitting at the desk, half-heartedly pouring over documents and reports and holopads. She approached him without fear and gently stretched her arm across his broad chest from behind. Almost instinctively, he leaned back against her with a frustrated exhale; his head resting against her torso with his eyes closed. His still gloved hand closed around her arm but not in a threatening or aggressive fashion, more like a yearning for support.

 

 _“That’s enough for tonight.”_ Came the beautiful, patient breath that he was more than happy to hear, accompanied by a light kiss against his exhausted temple.

“You’re right….” He murmured, lightly stroking her arm before relinquishing it and starting to move to where she wanted him to go. “You’re right. I’m coming.” She waited, knowing he would try to stretch out his work if she went in ahead. He followed her without protest and she helped him undress though their usual night time activities were on hold as usual when he nearly worked himself into the ground. Though their heads were equal on the pillow, under the sheets the tips of her toes barely graced halfway down his shins. Grateful for the rescue, his dark haired companion was held as she had been the past few nights and he found it far easier to sleep.


	10. Sharing is Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General and Lucilla gratefully return to Finalizer where they try something different. Hux endures a not so pleasant meeting the next morning.

They were home. Well, Finalizer was the closest thing to home either of them had felt for a long time. True, the bulk of the development of their relationship had been done on Starkiller but Finalizer was home. They were both more at ease there and he had never been stressed on the flagship like he had been on Starkiller. He escorted her from the shuttle and back to their quarters, holding her arm in his possessively; stiffening when they passed any members of staff though her hood mostly hid her face. She could assure him all she wanted but the jealousy was deep rooted.

 

He’d watched her on the shuttle; watched how her hands had folded ever so ladylike in her lap and ever so humbly averted her gaze from everyone else on board, even if they were mere Stormtroopers. His eyes lingered on those dainty hands and slightly upwards; he wanted her even though her sweet, calm demeanour fit only for a princess was not supposed to be provocative. She’d saved him from himself again the night before; this selfless creature, the one he adored beyond comprehension or understanding of his regimented and somewhat hateful mind. He wanted to do something for her.

 

He’d made his decision on the way back to their quarters. Her General told her he wanted to try something, just for her; if she didn’t like it, he’d stop. He was aware that when they engaged in anything sexual, he was usually the instigator and it was intended to be for his pleasure alone; if Lucilla happened to benefit, that was coincidental and additional. Now he felt it was his turn to be generous, to give her the chance to be the one pleasured without reciprocating. How often did he have her on her knees with her mouth wrapped around him while he watched her and enjoyed a glass of whiskey? How many times did he roll off her when he was finished and leave her without satisfaction? Too many and with the new depths of the relationship, he wanted that to change.

 

It seemed the appreciation of getting back to Finalizer after a trying two weeks on Starkiller was mutual. Certainly for Lucilla who lay on her back in front of the fire but she wasn’t alone. Panting up at the ceiling, it felt like her entire body was under incredible strain but melting at the same time; her knees trembled though they were bent, and her feet firmly planted on the floor. The source of this peculiar sensation came from between her open legs; one calf was held to ensure they stayed wide while her General attentively saw to his companion’s oral needs. It appeared they were needs she didn’t know she had.

 

Hux took extreme pride in the way Lucilla writhed against his grasp on her calf. It was so refreshing to see her actually _enjoy_ herself. He’d given her several opportunities to speak up, asked her numerous times if she was alright; each time he was answered with an ecstatic nod or a jumble of syllables that probably sounded like a positive answer to her. Though his companion was fully naked (more or less from as soon as they got in the door), the redhead was still perfectly clothed in the heavy, dark material of his uniform. There was something erotic about it; about keeping himself contained while she had the freedom to touch herself and experience different sensations against her bare skin.

 

He had started slowly and gently with a few tantalizing licks and kisses (yes, the General knew what a kiss was) to Lucilla’s already damp womanhood. It seemed that just by discussing it quietly when they got off the shuttle was enough to excite her which delighted him. Hux had peeled back the delicate, fleshy hood ever so gently with the tip of his tongue and went from there. He intensified his actions accordingly with the more confident Lucilla became. His raven locked darling lifted her hips ever so slightly, her pants having developed into fully blown moans though her eyes were clamped shut. Her master sucked on her swollen clit like a sweet with the occasional groan of his own, his icy gaze trained up to her face which he could just barely spy between her breasts. She was truly a sight to behold.

 

His veneration only climbed as Lucilla gripped the flesh of her left breast and gave it a decisive squeeze, exploration seemed to be her theme of the night. His tongue brushed lightly through her folds, alternating between licking, sucking and thrusting against her femininity; gauging by how the female reacted, disbelief riddled him at how _luscious_ she was. If she was able to control her muscles enough to look down, she would have seen the rare, pleasing sight of her General slicked from the tip of his nose, across his lips and down his chin with her secretion. The soft moans of wanton were the sounds he focused on, the ones that drive him and spurred him on to continue with vigour.

 

The General watched, elated, as she grappled (or attempted to) at the short fibres of the rug in a vain attempt to channel the pressure building below her waist. He decided to push her a little bit further. The older of the two pressed one single (and still gloved digit) into his companion and from watching how she fought to control her breathing, he knew she wasn’t far. Hux released her calf and adjusted the crotch of his trousers where it had become dreadfully tight but this was about Lucilla; he could see to himself in the shower later while she rested.

 

A small, almost pained simper greeted the first finger; the leather wasn’t exactly cold but it dragged at her in the most wonderful way, despite the moist that surrounded it. He stopped the harsh suckling and soothed the little pleasure organ with pacifying laps to ground her a little. He worked her a little around his finger then gave her another; in reaction, her legs tried to close automatically as she cried out on the rug but his elbow jarred them back open for him to continue. His eyes heightened to her again and to look upon her now was to look upon something so beautiful he couldn’t even begin to think of something to compare her to. He decided nothing compared to his Lucilla; squirming and almost weeping, as naked as the day she was born. She was crumbling and it was magnificent.

 

Those pale, angelic features were flushed, her knuckles were white and she seemed to silently sob in bliss; her chest heaved and her whole body shook as though she had no idea of how to cope with what she was feeling.

 

 _“_ _General….”_ The little female whimpered, sliding one sallow hand down into her master’s fiery hair (which he loved even more) and gripped it, considerate enough not to hurt him. When she called him, he couldn’t resist. He abandoned the actions of his tongue and mouth and crawled until he was over her. One shoulder dipped back so the increased pace of his fingers could continue against her. He wanted to prolong this, despite the burden of his own lust.

 

“Didn’t I tell you you’d like it?” Her General whispered, almost nose to nose with her.

 _“_ _Yes, General…”_ Lucilla whined in reply, barely able to nod with the grip of the orgasm slowly closing in on her. _“I feel….. Like I’m on fire…”_ The side of her face was cupped with his free, leathered hand and she could feel the erection poking into her stomach.

“Come for me, little dove.” He encouraged her placidly, still moving his fingers at a moderate speed and precision for his position. “Come for me and you can rest. You’ve done _so_ well.”

 

Lucilla’s joyful laments continued until she felt what she thought was a brick wall colliding with her body. Her form still shook, her eyes clamped shut and a small, brief scream erupted from the pet almost as if on command. The floor underneath her (despite being fabric) was slippery when she tried to adjust her hips to ease the sensation. The tingling stayed with her for several long seconds and it appeared she had lost all her motor skills. Her master watched this with satisfaction, knowing he had been extremely successful. He never recalled rendering her this way before but now he was safe in the knowledge that Lucilla would never forget what her General could do to her. She struggled to speak or even breathe but she tried anyway. It was delicious to see her try.

 

 _“General? I…. I can… feel you….”_ He knew what she meant but if he had his way, Lucilla wouldn’t be touching him.

“I know, little dove. Not to worry.” His fingers were withdrawn and an abundance of his companion’s fluids came with them; it didn’t perturb him but prided him, he simply sucked them clean and savoured the glorious nectar. “Nothing is expected of you tonight. Only rest.”

“ _But…”_

“No, Lucilla.” Despite what she wanted, she dropped it. He compensated her though. In an instant; her General hovered over her again, face to face. Exhausted and spent; she looked up and before she realized it, his lips were firmly and hungrily against hers, passing her own sweet juices onto her tongue.

 

“Can you taste yourself?” He’d pulled back but he was still within reach to do it again.

_“I….I can….”_

“What do you taste like?”

_“I don’t…. know.”_

The thrill of her remained in his mouth (and hers) as he swept her up and carried her to their bed, the action caused further slick on his uniform but it was unimportant in the heat of things. Hux lay her on the bed with another strong kiss; another barrier that seemed to have been broken. Lucilla returned them uncertainly but he would gladly build that confidence with her.

“Rest.” He encouraged lightly with an amiable kiss to the top of her head as she settled herself on her side. “I’ll be with you shortly.”

 

The General showered and rid himself of the discomfort in his trousers that Lucilla had almost insisted on doing for him. He wouldn’t hear of it. On the bridge and in battle (what he saw of it), Hux might have been ruthless and calculating but he was fair; his men could attest to it. In the presence of his companion, he strived to be affectionate and kind though sometimes he wasn’t very good at it. Mostly dried and the thin material of his lounge pants swirling around his ankles as he took his side of the bed; he found she was already asleep or almost.

 

Regardless, he pushed over and gathered her up the way he was used to and buried his face in her neck. Her still bare chest lifted subtly in completely relaxed breaths against his and her master looked her over; _several thousand units._ Would he have paid it himself if he knew exactly what he would be getting? Something far more than a bed warmer or a whore for life? More than likely but he would have had no way or knowing. He assumed his father hadn’t known either when he’d requested the other girls removed to have a closer look at this one without a stitch of clothing on her body.

 

The redhead had unusual time to spare in the morning. Rather than go to the trouble getting dressed and going to the bridge for only an hour before he was required in the holochamber, he opted to spend that hour with Lucilla. They had both shifted during the night; she lay facing the wall while his shoulder was parallel to the bathroom door. Hux hauled himself up though tried not to cause too much of a disturbance in the mattress that might wake his companion. He left a space of maybe half a foot between his chest and her back.

 

The sheets were slowly slid down until they just about rested on the bump of her hip, exposing the creamy landscape of her naked back and the scattering of onyx kinks. They couldn’t have contrasted better even if they were painted by an artist of exceptional skill with a palette of diverse colours from every corner of the galaxy, unseen by the eyes of any species. His left hand lifted to just below her armpit and from there, the very tips of his calloused fingers ghosted along the ivory curves. He got to the supple flesh beside her belly when….

 

An unexpected squeal and a very sudden shift in her position saw her sitting up bold right on the side of the bed with her back still to him. Her body seemed to shake like it had last night and the fret of it had her General scrambling upwards to check on her.

“Lucilla?! Lucilla, did I hurt you?!” It took him a moment to realize that she wasn’t in pain. No, it was something else…. Her lovable face glanced over her shoulder at him and it hit him in the stomach. There was still a very light pant in her voice and the answer stunned him.

“ _No, General…. You didn’t.”_ It barely occurred to him that it was a breath of _laughter. “You tickled me, that’s all.”_

He hadn’t heard that word in years. Yet alone felt it. And he’d just done it. By accident. Hux flopped back down onto the bed and ran a hand through his fiery strands with something akin to relief.

“Don’t worry me like that, little dove. Come here.” Of course, she obeyed. The General’s blue eyed beauty lifted herself back onto the bed and crawled to his waiting arms.

 _“I didn’t mean to, General.”_ Came the apologetic murmur but he pulled her down to him regardless with a lasting peck to her lips which she leaned in to.

 

“You laughed.” He observed quietly after a few minutes of the pair lying there in silence. She would have sat up but Hux’s grasp on her wouldn’t be broken.

_“I did. I’m sorry.”_

“Why?”

 _“_ _I… It’s just… It’s so serious here….”_ Her General adjusted her in such a way that light kisses could be pressed against her neck.

“It was actually quite pleasant. You **are** allowed to be happy, Lucilla. I **want** you to be happy. Just because I don’t do it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.” A dreamy sigh greeted the flutters against her neck, the graceful sound made him melt.

 

 _“I thought you’d be on the bridge by now.”_ He barely lifted his lips away to answer with a lazy question; he clearly had no intention of moving.

“Do you want me to go?”

_“No, General. I just don’t want you to be late on my account. Reprimands aren’t pleasant.”_

“I do the reprimanding, little dove. Fear not. I’m expected in the holochamber at 08.00, there’s no point in going to the bridge just for an hour. I’d much rather be here.” He didn’t mark her, it felt right to be careful with her just now.

“ _I like seeing you in the morning. It feels so long in between to only see you at night time.”_

 

The General lifted his lips away and simply pressed his forehead to hers. It was a better vantage point to look at the blue that reminded him of a supposedly enchanted pool at the bottom of a waterfall he’d seen on Naboo. So inquisitive, so captivating.

“It’s too early to wake you when I’m leaving for the bridge, little dove.” Lucilla’s gaze matched with her General’s; she was getting used to it by now. _“_

 _I can go back to sleep, General.”_ She uttered with something of longing and it was mirrored in her expression. He considered it, what harm could it do? If he saw her in the morning, it might take the edge off during the day.

“Very well. I’ll wake you when I wake.”

 

“Last night, I asked you what you tasted like.” Lucilla shifted in the bed and directed her curious gaze to her master who had since left their comfort and had started to dress.

 _“I still don’t know, General.”_ The delicate female answered but he was going to answer for her.

“When I was a boy, maybe about ten or eleven; my father and I went to a planet called Crucival. Have you heard of it?”

 _“No, General.”_ He stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down his hair with grooming gel until he was satisfied; all the while watching her in the reflection.

 

“It’s a horrible, desolate place; constantly wracked by civil war.” He turned and picked up a solid silver cufflink, applying it then redoing the action with the other one as he spoke. “It was the perfect place to source Stormtroopers from. Parents were desperate to get their children to safety; the Imperials promised food, shelter, education and whatever else to the children in their care which was technically true.” The belt with the heavy, silver buckle she had removed so many times was secured around her master’s (slight) waist and he continued.

 

“We met with the Opaline Creed; a group of elders of sorts. We dined with them; meat and wine but with it was the most magnificent honey. It came from Vashkan apidactyls; large, aggressive winged insects.” Fully dressed and completely satisfied with his uniform, Hux swept to her side of the bed and lingered over his companion; his poise was enough to tell her what he wanted. “I never thought I would ever taste its likeness again but last night you proved me wrong.” Lucilla’s lips were claimed by her General again, as if seeking a bare trace of it again. “The most expensive, rare and barely attainable honey in the galaxy and it’s been in my bed all along.”

 

 ** _“YOU ARE INSOLENT!! OUT OF CONTROL!!”_** Hux tried to restrain the smug smile and barely succeeded while the masked man beside him took a verbal beating from the hologram. **_“HOW ARE YOU TO MASTER THE DARK SIDE WHEN YOU CAN SCARCELY CONTROL YOUR TEMPER??!!”_** Snoke sat back in the throne that wasn’t actually present in the room but he wasn’t finished.

 

 **“I suggest you find a way to channel yourself. The equipment aboard Finalizer does not concern me but your feeble attempts at control do. Passion is the nature of the dark side but you are plain reckless.”** The General gave a very brief flare of his nostrils; why wasn’t his equipment important?! Naturally, he knew better than to voice that particular thought and did his best to keep it from the Supreme Leader.

 

 ** _“The General is far more collected; perhaps you should take note.”_** If the mask had not hidden his face, Kylo Ren’s disgust would have been on full display. **_“He has a toy in his quarters, I’m sure he would be more than willing to share her. That is, of course, if his ship and the safety of his men mean anything to him.”_** The bottom dropped out of the General’s stomach. He couldn’t allow it. He simply could not allow Kylo Ren anywhere near his Lucilla. Taking an unnerved step forward, Hux’s voice wasn’t as steady as he hoped it would be.

“Supreme Leader; with respect, my-“

**_“Silence. You cannot bring something like that aboard and expect to keep it to yourself. One night away from her will not kill you, General.”_ **

 

Leaving the holochamber, the General was reeling. What did he do? Go straight back to Lucilla? Stay with her for a while in case Ren came looking for her? There was no point putting Stormtroopers outside the door; they answered to him. Mitaka would be an even more useless bet.

“ **I’ve seen her.”** The distorter snapped his attention. “ **The day she arrived; I saw her. I haven’t seen her since. Do you just keep her locked away?”** Hux’s hands coiled into readied fists, the leather of his gloves squeaking as he did so. Ren was extremely powerful; it was no secret but now, the General was both enraged and possessive.

 

“She is not your concern, Ren.”

“ **The Supreme Leader would disagree.** ” Nearly panting in raw offense, Hux was almost blind to the damage that the masked male could do with a simple motion of his hand.

“There are plenty of Stormtroopers that would whore themselves for extra rations.” The redhead snarled with a curved lip, closing the distance between him and the slightly taller figure in black.

“Seek them and stay away from my chambers; stay away from **_my_** Lucilla.”

_So her name was Lucilla._


	11. Rose of my Empire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General is forced to negotiate with Kylo Ren then must break the news to Lucilla.

_Boy, get your own._

_Leave that one alone._

_That beautiful stranger belongs to me._

 

 

Hux _refused_ to take the risk. He couldn’t leave Lucilla on her own; Ren would no doubt know where to find her. In fact, he was certain he would. The General’s boots pounded purposefully on the polished metal of Finalizer’s floors; his usual staunch demeanour and posture in place. To watch the General, no one would think his mind was dreadfully frenzied. Being unwavering in his loyalties to the First Order, Supreme Leader Snoke and the rise of the new Imperial Empire; Hux never disobeyed an order. But now….. He was thinking about it.

 

Had this been how Lucilla felt the night he marked her? The mark that was only starting to subside now? That struck a chord with him; it seemed he and Lucilla were not so different after all. They had both been taught to do one thing from an early age: Obey. The details didn’t matter; obey who or why was immaterial as long as it was done. That night, Lucilla had risked herself for her master and disobeyed. If Hux disobeyed, he wouldn’t be doing it for Snoke. He would be doing it to protect a fragile creature that could not defend herself.

 

No doubt, Kylo Ren would be ruthless. He would probably be callous in how he’d use her then leave her; traumatized more than likely. The General had been guilty of that once upon a time but he was doing everything in his power to change it; the last thing he needed was Ren setting her back. If he sat back and let it happen, it would damage his own relationship with Lucilla, not just reduce her to what she had been. She wouldn’t trust him anymore; a consequence he couldn’t bare thinking about.

 

The redhead hesitated outside his quarters. What if Ren was already in there? Whatever he would be doing – Hux would be powerless to stop him. All it would take would be an intense stare or a wave of his hand to render the General helpless to allow whatever Ren was doing to Lucilla. Then it struck him: Kylo Ren might tear up his ship, he might torment his soldiers but he would _not_ lay a finger on Hux’s companion.

 

When Hux entered the living area, panic struck him when Lucilla wasn’t there. She was always there. Where was she? The increased rhythm of his heart hammering against his ribcage was soothed ever so slightly when he remembered that Lucilla only waited for him in the evening. He’d only left her barely an hour ago. His suspicions were confirmed when he pulled back the sliding door.

The relief was unparalleled when his gaze found the pale toes pointed from under the sheets that barely covered her. She lay on her side, hair splayed across both pillows with her nose buried in his one as if seeking comfort from the scent with one arm tucked at her side and the other thrown across where her General should have been.

 

 _You’re a very messy sleeper._ He thought to himself with mild amusement as he shifted her gently to lie down beside her. Messy and all as she was, she was charming. The longer he watched her, the more endeared he became. Looking at her now, innocent and unassuming; she could have been anything. A mother, a teacher, a doctor; not necessarily a servant of a sexual nature.

 

When Hux settled and laid his forehead against Lucilla’s, his eyes closed in both gratitude and solace that his little dove was safe. He felt her move beside him, leaning back slightly but for no more than a few seconds. He felt her soft, delicate hand cup the side of his pallid face and caused him to pry it off before laying an amicable kiss to her palm.

 

_“You’re back.”_

“I’m back.” He replied, still holding her hand and give it gentle strokes with his thumb. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes to the beautiful creature he’d been worried about looking back at him with a soft, sweet smile. If he thought Ren having his way with her was a nerve-wracking thought before; it was amplified a thousand times by being with her now.

 

 _“Is everything alright?”_ She was referring to his sudden reappearance. He couldn’t tell her the truth. That there was a possibility she was going to be hounded by a man that she had absolutely no chance of escaping from. The mere thought would terrify her and she would be left alone to deal with it since he would have to return to the bridge at some point.

 

“Everything is fine.” Hux lied, leaning in to claim Lucilla’s lips with his own; it was half a distraction, half a genuine need. “I came back to see if you had gone back to sleep, little dove.” That was also a lie. Lying to anyone had never been a problem for Hux but it never occurred to him that it might be a problem with Lucilla. He felt disgusting.

 

Lucilla lay back with a glorious sigh, eyes closed at the gratifying pull to her muscles as she stretched then settled against her General again. He embraced her and laid another kiss to the bundle of dark curls that rested on his chest.

 _“Mitaka will be here soon.”_ She murmured against his tunic, eyes closing again in utter relaxation.

 

That was something at least. He would wait until Mitaka arrived with her breakfast then make his late arrival to the bridge. At least she wouldn’t be alone, not as vulnerable.

 _“I should get up. It would be rude to be so sluggish in front of him.”_ The little murmur disturbed his musings though she seemed to have no intention of doing what she had just said. Maybe seeing her in the mornings would be more difficult than originally anticipated.

 

“Little dove, sleep if you need to. I will contact Mitaka and tell him to bring your meal later.”

 _“But I’m hungry.”_ A slight, uncharacteristic chuckle broke the General’s stoic but affectionate disposition.

“You realize that is the first time I’ve heard those words cross your lips?” Lucilla slowly picked her head up from Hux’s chest and laid her chin on it instead, her almost playful (but sleepy) gaze directed upwards.

 

 _“Forgive me, General. I’m not fully awake yet.”_ Forgiveness was granted with yet another kiss but to her forehead this time.

“Lucilla?”

_“_ _Hmm?”_

“Little dove, what are your thoughts on Kylo Ren?” No doubt this would be telling.

 

Lucilla stayed quiet and her gaze dropped; she seemed fascinated with the seam in the middle of his tunic. He knew this behaviour. He knew it meant she wasn’t comfortable with the question or the answer. _“_

 _I have only seen him once.”_ It wasn’t very revealing but her tone was enough to make his heart sink. The rest of the answer would not be pleasant. _“But he frightens me.”_

If that wasn’t bad enough, the com to the main door buzzed; it could only be Mitaka. Hux bid his companion to stay in bed to tend to it, just in case. However, the Lieutenant carried no plate or tray or even a lunch bag. The smaller, dark haired man radiated fluster and his usually pasty complexion was tinged with red; like overexertion and frustration.

 

“General….” Mitaka began, almost as if out of breath. “We tried to find you; there was no sign of you on the bridge, sir….” The look of impatience he received was enough to hurry Mitaka to the point. “It’s Kylo Ren, sir. Three control rooms. Two in the northern quadrant, one in the east. Completely destroyed; seemingly unprovoked. He’s walking the ship with his saber unsheathed and lit…. What do we do, sir?”

 

Hux was being called out by the man-child he’d been forced to share his vessel with. No, not Mitaka. The Knight was trying to get his attention, to get what he wanted. Lucilla.

“Where is he now?” More bad news. “He’s been scrambling camera feeds, sir. But he was last seen heading for the departure bay.”

 

“I want two Stormtroopers stationed up here on either side of this door and at each entrance to this hallway. Trained ones, not sanitation.” Hux attempted to straighten himself from lying down with Lucilla. “The cameras are to be brought back online and I want this entire corridor surveyed. If he is even seen **near** this corridor, I want to know immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

The General glanced back at the door; hopefully she was gone back to sleep, she wouldn’t hear any of this.

“Lucilla’s safety is paramount. No one gets in and Lucilla doesn’t leave.” Not that she would. She only left when she was escorted and that was when they left for Starkiller.

“Yes, General. Should I stay?”

“No, fetch the Stormtroopers then go to the bridge. Try and hold resolve up there while I attend to this.”

 

 ** _“DON’T EVEN THINK OF RAISING THAT SABER TO ONE OF THOSE FIGHTERS!!!”_** Kylo Ren turned to find the ginger General striding towards him; greatcoat flowing and actually wearing it with his arms in the sleeves. Ren called down the blade and stood to face his military counterpart. He had every intention of ripping up a tie-fighter and the destruction would continue until Hux acknowledged the demands.

 

“What are you trying to prove?!” Hux barked, almost even with the masked male. “That you’re incapable of control?! That you cannot bear being told you cannot have something?!”

 **“The Supreme Leader commanded it.”** The modulator didn’t unnerve Hux like it used to, he was accustomed to it. But Lucilla was a very sensitive subject.

 

“It was not a command!” Hux argued though he didn’t have a whole lot of confidence in it. He seemed to be grasping at metaphorical straws.

 **“He ordered you to relinquish her to me for one night. It is a simple task, General; why can’t you fulfil it?”** The redhead didn’t answer. Anything Leader Snoke said was to be obeyed and while the General had tried to find a loophole, he’d failed.

 

“She’s not yours to have.” Hux’s resolve was weaker and the Knight could see it as plain as if he didn’t have the helmet with the restrictive visor.

 **“And what makes her yours to withhold?”** The General hadn’t thought about that in some time. Had he been asked that question six months ago, his answer would have been somewhat supremical in nature. He didn’t feel that way now.

 

That said, he had a feeling Kylo Ren would only understand the supremical answer.

“She was gifted to me. She gave herself to me. I provide for her therefore she is mine and mine alone. Besides, she said herself that you frighten her, why would allow you to impose yourself on her?”

 **“Your protests are born of weakness.”** Ren pointed out, closing what was left of the distance between them.

 

 **“The non-existent will of a bed warmer is clouding your judgement. Continue to deny me and I will continue destroy at will until my demands are met.”** He decided to test the waters.

“And what are these demands?” Hux chimed in though steadily growing more enraged at Ren’s sense of entitlement to his Lucilla.

 

**“Nothing more than the Supreme Leader suggested. One night to do what I please.”**

“And what about what she pleases?” What sounded dreadfully like a laugh filtered through the mask and sent chills up the General’s spine. Had he been like this? If he had, he would splay himself on his knees in front of his little dove and beg her forgiveness.

 

“How can I be assured that you would keep your word? If I let you have her for one night that you would not come looking for her again? That my ship would be left intact? That my men would be unharassed?" He couldn’t tell if the Knight was looking at him or not, that bloody mask made it impossible.

 

 **“You can’t.”** Kylo Ren answered simply. **“But is it not best to try?”** Hux found himself in a corner. Lucilla was his way of coping with command but if he didn’t do this, he would _have_ nothing to command.

“I have conditions.” The General hated himself as he choked it out, defeated.

**“Name them.”**

“I am to be nearby.” The thought of hearing it was vile but Hux convinced himself that if it got out of hand that he could step in; he should have known better. “There are certain….. _things_ she has never experienced. If she asks you not to do them, don’t.” The mask hid Kylo Ren rolling his eyes. He wasn’t likely to abide by that condition.

 

“Lastly….” The General dropped his gaze and his voice adopted a note of involuntary pleading. This was probably the most important one. “She is very delicate. _Please don’t hurt her_.”

 

Arrangements were made for Lucilla to be brought to a neutral room on the same corridor as the General’s quarters. Somewhere that Kylo Ren could leave and the General could collect Lucilla from when it was all over. Ren seemed to brush off the mention of contraception; the General knew Lucilla had no womb but the other male didn’t know that. The issue went unresolved.

 

His companion had just finished her breakfast when he hesitantly entered their quarters. She sat happily in front of the fire, digesting whatever it was she had eaten then looked up, surprised to find herself graced with her master’s presence for the third time that day. This was getting harder and harder, could he do it? Could he really just hand her over? Even for just one night?

 

“You’ve eaten?” He observed almost dryly as he scrutinized the empty tray and the scraps on it.

 _“_ _Yes, General.”_ He looked more closely, a disapproving frown tracing into his strict features.

“Lucilla, what did you eat?” Confused by the question, his dark haired darling looked over to where the tray waited to be taken away.

 _“I…. Porridge with berries and milk, General?”_ **Porridge with berries and milk.**

He would wait for Mitaka to collect the tray, there was no point being angry with Lucilla but he had already specified her diet. There were two diets: Stormtrooper and Officer. She was not supposed to be on the Stormtrooper diet. It made him cringe! **_His_** graceful Lucilla was choking back bland **porridge**?!

“You’re supposed to be on my diet, Lucilla. No wonder you haven’t put on any weight.”

 

Hux claimed the armchair he usually did and felt the gracious pressure of Lucilla’s head resting against his leg. Ridden with guilt for the arrangement he had just made, his gloved hand stretched out and caressed the obsidian curls; his heart clenching as she nuzzled into it.

“Little dove, there’s something we need to discuss.”

 

She didn’t seem too perturbed.

 _“Yes, General?”_ Gods, how did he do this? How did he tell her he was handing her over to someone who frightened her? He still stroked her gently as if that would make it better. It didn’t. If anything, it made it worse.

 

“Tonight; you’re going to Kylo Ren, little dove.” As he anticipated, this wasn’t going to go down well. Lucilla stiffened under his hand and he automatically relented his strokes. He watched as she just stared ahead blankly for a few seconds and when she turned to face him; he felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

 

Those perfect features had become marred by a devastated betrayal but he forced himself to keep his gaze on her.

“Lucilla?” It seemed she had trouble speaking. The longer she was quiet, the worse he felt about this dreadful situation.

 

“I need you to bathe and dress and be ready when-“

“ _I don’t want to.”_ Hux breathed a small sigh and averted his eyes.

“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be, little dove.” Lucilla pulled herself away from her General, over to the corner of the rug and out of his grasp. That stabbed him even more.

_“I don’t want to.”_

“I know, Lucilla, but-“ The redhead closed his eyes at the little sniffle from the corner of the rug.

“Lucilla…. Rose of my Empire-“

 _“_ _You swore to me!”_ Her sweet face contorted with a heartbroken sob and a small taint of anger; his remorse only deepened. _“You swore you would never make me do anything I didn’t want to do!”_

“I know.” He murmured again, shame and anguish clawing at his chest. “I know. I did and I shouldn’t have….” The General slid off the chair and onto his knees, trying to coax Lucilla to him but she only moved away.

“Little dove, I don’t want this either….”

_“So why are you allowing it?! Why are you allowing me to be taken when I don’t want to be?!”_

She’d never spoken back like that before. If she had done it when she first arrived or even a week or so earlier, she would have been punished severely for it. Now though…. She was stronger, speaking out of passion and the confidence he’d striven to give her. Now she was using it against him; using the mutual devotion to each other against him.

 

He tried to get closer to her in an attempt to gather his wounded companion into his arms but it appeared the trust was fractured. Nothing could have made that clearer when she dodged his grasp, got up and tore through the sliding door and into the bathroom.

 

In horrible defeat, the General stayed there for several moments before he forced himself up. He followed her trail through the sliding doors and laid his forehead against the cold metal of the door. He could hear her; she was still weeping.


	12. Don't Be Frightened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It might not be the full night that Lucilla spends with Kylo Ren but it's enough. Especially when she realizes something about Ren he might not want anyone else to know.

_She’s beautiful as usual with bruises on her ego and_

_Her killer instinct tells her to be aware of evil men._

 

Lucilla didn’t leave the bathroom until the General hesitantly left. He couldn’t exactly blame her. She didn’t continue to cry because she knew he could hear her; she cried with utter devastation and he knew it.

 

Regardless, Lucilla hauled herself into the bath with her sweet smelling lotions and basked miserably for a while. Mitaka had come to take her tray (she could hear him moving around outside) and had it not been for the turn of events and the General’s early departure, the Lieutenant would have suffered a scolding for bringing the companion the wrong food.

 

Maybe she dozed off, maybe she wallowed too deep in despair because the next thing she knew, Mitaka was back with her lunch tray and the bath was cold. Reluctantly, Lucilla stood and let the water fall from her hair and body back into the tub before grabbing her towel from the heated rack. It was a small comfort since the exposure later would be so incredibly violating.

 

The small things forced her through; drying her hair, styling it, picking something to wear. Her lunch was as cold as her bath water (and seemed to be served that way) when she finally got to it. Lucilla barely tasted the new diet that seemed to be rich in lean meats, salad, milk and a square of something brown in a clear wrapper. She didn’t know what it was so she left it be.

 

By the time the General returned that evening; Lucilla was dressed, her hair and her make up were pristine though no attempt Hux made was reciprocated. Any stab at small talk or conversation was ignored, no little gestures were returned; even when he tried to kiss her, she looked the other way. Dejected, he left her be.

 

As always, Lucilla never went anywhere without an escort and a hooded cloak. Now was no exception, even if she was only going a few metres down the corridor. The General would allow no one else to act as her usher; it was only the beginning of the penance he knew he more than deserved.

 

Kylo Ren was waiting; masked and clothed. She had seen nothing of him since she arrived (due to her quarantine in the General’s quarters) and felt herself on the verge of quaking though she had no idea how she held her composure.

 

Lucilla resisted another chaste, worried kiss from the General. It didn’t seem to matter to either of them that it was under the watchful eye of Kylo Ren. With her jaw lightly clenched and eyes averted purposefully, he got the message and left; it was his turn to be wounded.

 

The dark haired darling didn’t look at the man in black. At least, she could only assume he was a man. No one had ever seen his face to her knowledge. He seemed fixated on her; his eyes (?) had not moved from her and she felt her nerves fraying.  She could feel him probing her already, both her mind and body.

 

 **“You’re afraid.”** The voice modulator in the mask shook her, she hadn’t expected it. With every aspect of the horrible situation that threw itself at her, she didn’t think for one moment that she would be addressed by a robot. He seemed to realize it.

 

Two gloved hands lifted and there was subsequently a hissing like a distressed snake as the modulator rose; the helmet was removed. Lucilla’s breath caught in her throat as he slammed it down onto the nearby cabinet. He was certainly human.

 

Like her; his hair was black, his skin was pale but those large dark eyes watched her like a predator. He was undoubtedly older than her, but not as much as her master. His features seemed soft, sensitive almost but that gaze…. It was far too intense. It unnerved her even more.

 

The Knight approached her slowly; taking in every inch of the prize he’d bullied the General out of and pushed down the hood that kept her partially hidden from him. She was more magnificent than he remembered when she was brought on board all those months ago.

 

Ren was taller than Hux, meaning he was significantly bigger than her. Up close with his body almost pushed against hers, he was definitely broader and more muscular than the General but it was impossible to see it under the mass of black fabric that didn’t seem to have any beginning or end.

 

Surprisingly, Lucilla’s chin was gently taken and her head tilted back to see her better. **_“You’re so beautiful….”_** He breathed ruggedly as if barely restraining himself, deep brown eyes sweeping over to the hair as dark as his and the enchanting blue eyes only heard of in fairy tales. No wonder Hux didn’t want to share her.

 

 ** _“Don’t be frightened….”_** He pressed her but the undertones of menace were too prominent to ignore. Naturally, it wasn’t something she could just turn off. The skin of Lucilla’s jaw was stroked amicably with his leathered thumb but her stomach still fluttered with fret.

 

 ** _“He calls you his little dove, doesn’t he?”_** She was yet to make eye contact with him, her eyes flickered everywhere but him and she would try to keep it that way for as long as she could. He continued to purr unsteadily to her. **_“I can see why. So wonderfully pale; sweet and docile…. You’re his peace, did you know that?”_**

****

**_“When he’s on the bridge and his mind goes quiet, it automatically goes to you. Has she eaten enough? Is she still asleep? Is she awake? Does she pine for me?”_** Her chin was released and the man she knew only as Kylo Ren stepped away from her to pace the small foot space of the room aimlessly. **_“It’s pathetic. Take it off and get into the bed.”_**

****

Needless to say, Lucilla didn’t want to take it off and she didn’t want to get into the bed but he had stopped pacing and was now staring her down. So she unlatched the elaborate silver broach (the General insisted it wasn’t a gift but a necessity, she knew better) from the front of her cloak and let it pool at her feet.

 

His scrutiny continued when slightly shaking hands caught the hem of her white slip (it might as well get some use since the General preferred black or grey) and it was lifted up over her head. Lucilla pulled back the heavy sheets of the unfamiliar bed and climbed in. Her earlier sentiments had been correct: Nothing had happened yet and she already felt violated.

 

With his stolen companion settled in the bed, Ren started to undress himself though his movements were strained and (dare she think it) uncertain. She returned the favour of watching him unwrap himself from the seemingly endless black material of various textures and roughness; had he just found everything of some shade of black in his wardrobe and just combined it?

 

Lucilla now faced the discomfort of being pinned against the bed by a weight she was not accustomed to. The entirety of his body weight lumped upon her and the ragged breathing down on her face made her wonder if he actually knew what he was doing.

 

Ren’s vision trailed down (she wasn’t sure how since their bodies were more or less sandwiched together) and took in the pale expanse of her naked form. It excited him even more as he started to twitch against her thigh. Again, it felt like he was feeling in the dark.

 

Uncomfortable in every sense; mentally, emotionally and physically, Lucilla literally couldn’t shift in an attempt to settle herself. His gloves hand been stripped and now those large, calloused hands roamed over her significantly smaller form and the discomfort climbed.

 

As much as he had betrayed her, as much as this was his fault; Lucilla would have given anything for her General to sweep her away just now. Anything to just lie in bed with him curled up and have him stroke her hair, kiss her repeatedly and tell her it was all a bad dream. It wouldn’t happen.

 

Kylo Ren poked his way around beneath her waist and Lucilla braced herself. She was right to do so. He gave her no warning when he pushed in with little consideration for the female beneath him. If he cared, he would have heard it in the pained whimper. She wasn’t aroused nor did he seem to know anything about the correct way to position himself when taking a female.

 

He stopped immediately when he felt himself fully sheathed inside the General’s companion; he needed time to savour this particular sensation. He didn’t revel in it for long. It was almost in a sense of urgency that his ragged breaths had evolved into heavy pants of thrill with every strong, bruising thrust into the tiny female.

 

It felt like she was losing her virginity all over again and (if her suspicions were correct) so was Ren. The echoes of distress in those little whines were quiet when containment was no long an alternative; she wanted to minimize the possibility of being lashed out at. As a rule; eye contact was submissively avoided and she would work to maintain that.

 

Lucilla decided that tuning out was the best option for her. He was set on simply using her body; he was focused on self-completion so she would leave him to it. The Knight might tell her she was beautiful, that she was sweet and docile but it meant nothing from a man who only wanted to take something from someone else; why would she listen?

 

That’s not to say that the blue eyed beauty didn’t feel the ache between her legs, the harsh pressure on her torso and the barbaric thrashing of his hips against hers. She would be marked, she would be bruised and she would probably have difficulty walking; like she had before. Her soft mewls would come with a wince but they were automatic; there was nothing behind them.

 

The grunting from above her and the (if it was possible) increased animalistic pushing and withdrawing was coming to a close; and by that it was at a height. He was on his way and hopefully, she would be free to go. He was still clumsy; his rhythm hadn’t fixed itself for the duration of their encounter but it didn’t even matter anymore. She just wanted to leave.

 

Eventually, finally; that tell-tale roar of utterly selfish ecstasy from above told her her prayers were answered. Ren’s breathing was uneven and his hips stuttered as he spilled everything he had into her. It may have sounded like he needed an inhaler but Lucilla just waited patiently. The other side of the bed was claimed when he rolled off her and continued to pant at the ceiling, she just hoped he wouldn’t look for pillow talk.

 

The best way to avoid that was to turn her back to him and close her eyes. Mercifully, once he’d caught his breath, she felt him shift past the sheets and proceed to get up and dress. She wouldn’t move from here; she might even stay the night and let the General stew.

 

 ** _“Look at me.”_** Grudgingly, Lucilla half turned after a silent few minutes to the Knight who had managed to replace the muddle of fabric back into place on his body and his helmet in his hand. **_“Next time you will be responsive and you will be interested.”_**

****

_Next time? There had been no mention of a next time._ In fact, the General had told her it would only be one night. Then again, he also swore to her he wouldn’t make her do something she didn’t want to and here she was. Maybe she shouldn’t have done it but she felt the need to break her muteness….

 

 _“At least next time you won’t be a virgin.”_  She didn’t know why Ren restrained himself from that but he did. She needed some sort of dig. Disgusted with a vein pulsing in his neck, he pushed his helmet back on (probably with more force than necessary) and left.

 

Sticky, tired and sore; Lucilla lay back and closed her eyes. Bruising was a definite and the raw ache between her legs would serve as a staunch reminder of what had been done to her. Not necessarily by Kylo Ren but by the General.

 

The door slid open while Lucilla dozed and Hux was immediately hit with the reek of sex. He fought the urge to cover his nose and mouth; the need to check on his companion was more important. Unaware of his presence, the female lay mostly asleep with her legs splayed to relieve the pain between them on the cool of the sheets; or at least try to.

 

She woke slowly with the even slower realization that she was on her own side of her own bed. He lay on his side beside her; arm stretched across her waist and nose buried in her neck but she knew he was awake. She tried to shift away but his hold won’t allow it.

 

“Did he hurt you?”

_“I don’t want to discuss it.”_

Hux tried to ignore the unfamiliar coldness in his Lucilla’s tone; it would eat him alive if he didn’t but it seemed that process had already begun. She shifted with enough stubbornness that the General had no choice but to relinquish his grasp. Disheartened as she sat on the edge of the bed with her back to him, the redhead tried again by gently reaching out and taking her hand.

 

_“I don’t want to sleep here tonight.”_

“Lucilla….

_“No. I need to think about this.”_

She almost got up but his hand grounded her. She looked over her shoulder to a faced burdened with desperation, pleading and heartbreak.

 

“Please don’t hate me, little dove. I don’t think I could bear it.”

 

Without emotion and somehow back in her slip; Lucilla pried herself free and left the bedroom to resume her place in front of the fire. The pained hobble only furthered his guilt. He wouldn't be sleeping tonight.


	13. Training Room B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General's unease while Lucilla is with Kylo Ren. Hux goes to further and further lengths in a bid for his little dove's forgiveness.

_But it was not your fault but mine_  
_And it was your heart on the line_  
_I really fucked it up this time_  
_Didn't I, my dear?_

 

General Hux didn’t know how many times he ran his hand through his hair that night. He’d have to wash it; it had become greasier than it had in a long time from such constant contact. He paced like an irritated caged animal, complete with the occasional frustrated snorted exhale. He tried to settle, tried to have a glass of whiskey to calm his nerves, nothing worked. Not even the Whyren’s.

 

The camera feed outside the room was open constantly and displayed on a portable monitor though he found it hard to look and listen to it. He’d hear snatches, mostly the Knight. He’d hear the odd little whimper but just barely. Even from those tiny sounds, there was no pleasure in them. Ren was hurting her.

 

And here he, the one responsible, sat out of harm’s way. Seated fretfully on the sofa with his face in his hands, Hux rocked lightly back and forth while blame kicked him in the chest. It was his fault just as much as Ren’s. This shouldn’t have been allowed to happen.

 

Even if it had meant getting rid of her when he had the chance, she wouldn’t have had to endure this. And the General wouldn’t be tormented by foreign feelings of devotion and adoration that he’d only ever believed would be a distraction. He wasn’t wrong but they were a glorious distraction. However, it seemed Snoke had always known about Lucilla; if he was distracted and his work was suffering, she would have been mentioned sooner.

 

And now she vexed Kylo Ren. Again, if Snoke was displeased by her presence, he would not have suggested she be used by the Knight. Hux didn’t want to think about it but somehow he found himself in capable of doing anything else. _My Lucilla…. My little dove, what’s he doing to you?_ He deserved this. Every second of torture and helplessness.

 

He was awoken from his own self-persecution by the mechanical whirring of the door nearest to the camera and caught a quick glimpse of the dressed and masked male walking away from it. Hux buried his face again; he would give her a few minutes before he went to her but he dreaded the condition he’d find her in.

 

At first, he thought she was unconscious but relief (not much) poked him when he realized she was merely asleep; a Force sleep or not, it was impossible to tell. When he peeled back the sheet to dress her, the extent of the damage was revealed. Angry poppy marks that would sting and bruise were scattered on her thighs, her hips and at random intervals on her torso. _That animal. No, animals didn’t behave this way. An animal wouldn’t hurt his mate for the sake of hurting her._

 

In a way, the General was pleased that Lucilla was a deep sleeper. Not only was it helpful when he tried to dress for the bridge without waking her but now when he covered her and carried her back to their quarters. Had she been awake, he had no doubt she would have struggled against him and refused his assistance; purely a punishment she felt he needed to have.

 

With his little dove safely back in her own bed, the General held her like the most precious thing in the world, any world, every world. Strong arms wrapped around her and his nose buried in her neck; it only intensified his woe to feel her tense even in her sleep.

 

Her sweet scent was not disrupted by her trauma. Especially her hair that reminded him of a grove where his favourite berries used to grow back on Arkanis, the grove where he used to go after being scolded….

 

Seized from his sad reminiscing by Lucilla shifting, the exchange didn’t go as well as he hoped but it went more or less as he expected. The way she pulled her hand out of his and ignored his raw plea was more than he thought he could take. But the way she walked (or tried to) tore what resolve he had in half.

 

He beat down the temptation to follow her out into the living area; not for his sake but for hers. She needed space, she needed time. The General didn’t have much of an impulsive spark but what he did have of it barked at him to get out of the bed and go to her. However; Hux’s analytical side, the side he was more accustomed to, told him to wait.

 

The redhead didn’t sleep. To toss and turn totally upheaved his carefully regimented sleeping system; a system that by having someone else (however small and fragile) beside him would confine him and settle him better. Now he didn’t have that someone.

 

He got up earlier than usual, showered and dressed though he seemed to do those things on autopilot. He needed to see her, to check on her, to make sure she was alright. When he gently lowered himself into the armchair above her, guilt ebbed at him again.

 

He hadn’t raised a hand to her this time but he was just as responsible for her pain, her degradation and her broken trust as much as (if not more than) Ren. Unable to face the scene of still and tranquil melancholy anymore, Hux left for the bridge.

 

Or at least that was the intention. Before he even reached the end of the corridor where their quarters were situated, Hux turned back. His darling Lucilla was swept up from the rug and replaced in their bed before he left again.

 

The little dove woke alone in the familiar comfort and scent of hers and the General’s bed. With a light, defeated sigh and a pale hand tangled into her curls; Lucilla was quickly becoming defeated. Aching and weak, the meek little female pulled herself out from under the sheets.

 

The General found her in the bath at lunch time. It was a pitiful sight. If it was possible, she seemed paler and frailer than she ever did before, the bottoms of those usually vibrant curls just floated listlessly like they too had given up. Needless to say, Lucilla said nothing nor did she look up when the bathroom door opened.

 

“Mitaka tells me you didn’t eat your breakfast.” She had intended on letting him wait for an answer but thought better of it.

 

 _“I wasn’t hungry.”_  
“Your lunch is waiting.”  
_“I’m still not hungry.”_

Hux sighed and stripped away one of his gloves then perched himself on the side of the bath, allowing his bare hand to stroke the surface of the water but withdrew it almost immediately.

 

“Lucilla, this water is cold.”  
_“To numb the pain and ease the swelling._ ” Well, that was a terrible answer. Hux tried to pretend he didn’t hear it but it appeared to be lodged in his brain.

 

“Little dove, you’re going to get sick.”  
_“If I get sick, no one will want me.”_  
“Luc-“

  
_“Aren’t you supposed to be on the bridge?”_ Caught off guard by the clear attempt to be left alone, Hux wasn’t sure that he could. His concern was mounting; the events of last night were enough but now she was sitting in a cold bath without eating since the day before? How did she expect to get better? Or maybe she didn’t want to.

 

“I’m worried about you, Lucilla.” That confession was greeted by a brief, humourless laugh from the female in the bathtub and he stared at her, morosely confused. Why couldn’t she see he was trying? That he was doing his best to reach out and help her, even if it **was** his fault?

 

 _“Worried about me.”_ Lucilla repeated softly with a small shake of her head. _“You handed me over like a cantina whore; you knew this would happen and **you’re worried about me.** ”_ Without having a response or even an inkling of how to defend himself (there was none), Hux slid off the side of the bath, gave an overcome sort of nod and left her to her own devices.

 

“Did she eat anything? Lunch? Dinner? **Anything?** ” Poor Lieutenant Mitaka found himself collared (not literally) later that evening on the way back from the General’s quarters. The shorter of the two lifted the cover on the tray; not a single morsel of food had been touched. Not the bowl of stew, not the dinner roll or the wrapped square of chocolate (a rare and expensive luxury the General had gone to great pains to acquire; since the discovery of the diet mistake, her weight concerned him).

 

Even the napkin was still coiled around the knife, fork and spoon, it was clear she hadn’t touched it. The General did all in his power not to close his eyes in dismay in front of his subordinate. What the hell was he going to do?

 

“Where was she when you collected the tray?”  
“In front of the fire, sir.”  
“Does she speak to you, Lieutenant?” Mitaka looked somewhat nervous. He knew he wasn’t supposed to speak to or even interact with Lucilla and he obeyed that to the best of his ability. It was difficult not to stare at her though. And she was so unbelievably beautiful when she was sad.

 

“No, General. Not a word.” The officer responded, long having since replaced the cover on the tray where Lucilla’s untouched meal sat. If he thought he’d get away with it, he would have kept the chocolate; kept half for himself and sent the other half home to his younger sister. Chocolate was a rarity following the Yuuzhan Vong War; the real thing was hard to come by if one could come by and afford it.

 

“Keep it that way but watch her, Lieutenant.” Any avenue would do at this stage, even letting Mitaka keep a watchful eye over his beloved Lucilla. He would try everything and anything though he was aware it would be difficult to earn such forgiveness. “If there is anything out of the ordinary, anything strange or you feel she is wilting, inform me immediately. I also want the hallway and the door monitored for Kylo Ren still. Am I clear?”

 

“Crystal, sir.”  
“Good. As you were.”

 

With Lucilla at odds with the General, she slept on the rug in front of the fire but always woke up on her side of the bed in the later hours of the morning, usually by Lieutenant Mitaka bringing her breakfast. The shy, dark haired officer had started to stay a while; he would usually make it look like he was doing something else. He glanced at her too often though. Mitaka found that she may benefit from stimulation. Books, a holopad; something to keep her occupied during the day. Every movement was reported back to the General.

 

Slowly but surely, Lucilla started to eat again but found the extra, random appearances of the Lieutenant somewhat unnerving. More often than not, she would have a bath or a nap; an excuse to go into the bathroom or bedroom and lock the door. Of course, Mitaka (silly, shy Mitaka) had no sinister motives; only orders. If he found himself with a spare few moments, he made them count by checking in on the General’s companion.

 

The redhead knew by now to leave her alone, at least until he had something more of value from Mitaka to approach her with. For now, she ignored him. If he thought (for even the slightest second) that he had her attention or he was in her eye line, he would make an attempt; try for a reaction if nothing else. He didn’t get one.

 

“Anything?” Hux pressed discreetly on the bridge and Mitaka flicked through his mental notes.

 

“She’s eating more, sir.” The Lieutenant answered, careful not to be heard and loyally pretending he didn’t see the exceptionally swift look of relief cross the General’s features. “Her appetite has returned but she’s become alert to my presence. She usually retreats to the bathroom or the bedroom when I arrive and waits until I leave to emerge.”

 

She was eating again. That was something at least. The recovery would be slower from the night on Starkiller (that had been an impulsive act based on ignorance but there was no excuse for that or this) but it seemed to be happening. Whether he would be part of that recovery or not, the General wasn’t sure. What would he do if he wasn’t?

 

“General, I also observed she sleeps a lot.” Mitaka continued. The redhead wasn’t sure if this was a surprise or not. He knew she was a deep sleeper but that didn’t necessarily mean Lucilla slept excessively. “I feel it could be out of boredom. She has no stimulation as such. Maybe a holopad? Some books? A small animal for company?”

 

Mitaka got the impression his superior wasn’t listening anymore. He stared intently ahead; nostrils flared and eyes narrowed in temper. Turning curiously, the Lieutenant found the point of the General’s disgust striding towards them in the form of Kylo Ren.

 

“You’re dismissed, Lieutenant.” Hux ordered coldly so the shy male scarpered. The General had a target and he was going to meet it dead on.

 

 **“General.”** The Knight greeted him though it was marred with robotics until they met almost chest to chest on the bridge. Hux’s facial expression had not changed and Ren, of course, was unreadable but he sounded pleased with himself. **“Just the man I wanted to see. I require a second meeting.”**

 

“And you think you’re going to get it?!” Hux seethed, outraged at the very idea. Fury poked at every nerve of the ginger male. The images of the marks, the way she walked and how she seemed to decrease in mass overnight flashed at him involuntarily. Hux’s lip had lifted to bear a few pristinely white teeth; a display of agonizing hatred and indignation. “Have you any idea what you’ve done to her?! She won’t speak to me!”

 

**“Well then, you need to discipline your whore, General. Although if she usually just lies there like she did, maybe she’s too well disciplined.”**

“You will **not** call her that! How dare you! You’re not worthy to look upon her, let alone do anything else to her!”

“ **And yet, I did. That second meeting, General. I don’t need to involve the Supreme Leader, do I?”**

 

“How about this, Ren?” They were close now; two males locking horns. There was no hiding the dangerous passion in Hux while Ren appeared unmoved. “Meet me in training room B in the northern quadrant in an hour. Man to man. Unarmed combat; no blasters, no lightsabers, no Force. I win; you never lay eyes on Lucilla again. You win; she’s yours to keep and to do with as you please. I’ll see you in an hour.”


	14. Something of a Disagreement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Kylo Ren and the General's fight for Lucilla. Hux sends Mitaka on a mission.

_These are the scars that silence carved_

_On me_

_This the same place_

_No, not the same place_

_This is the same place, love_

_No, not the same place we've been before_

 

Lucilla felt it. She didn’t know what it was or why it pulled at her but the sensation was there all the same. It lead her out of the bedroom and into the living area where she looked around nervously. The atmosphere had tensed; she wasn’t sure how, she’d only been out there a few minutes previous and everything was fine. The foreboding heightened and poor Lucilla (dressed in something more than a slip) waited for it to manifest itself as if powerless to do anything else.

 

Maybe two or three slow minutes after Lucilla left the bedroom, the main door slid from its closed position and there was something banal about it before she was thrust into sudden panic. The first thing her blue grazed was the excess of blood dripping and oozing from seemingly every pore above the black along with the agonized shuffle as he gripped the doorframe and forced himself over the threshold with determination. Lucilla simply stood there and watched with sheer terror, both hands tented over her mouth and nose; eyes uncomprehending.

 

 " _What happened to you?!”_

“I was in something of a disagreement, little dove.”

 _“A disagreement?!”_ Lucilla repeated in a petrified squeak, utterly horrified from behind her hands before lowering them so he could take in her ashen face. _“Is that your blood?!”_

“Not all of it, some of it is Ren’s.” Lucilla’s stomach jolted at the name. In all the scenarios conjured in her head (that she couldn’t process because of the external situation), not one of them matched what had actually happened. The General had pulled himself against the wall and stood there panting lightly at the effort of such a small task. How he made it back to his quarters by himself, he still wasn’t sure. The adrenaline from the fight had long since left him.

 

However, he did know he was proud of his officers; he had passed several of them on his way back to Lucilla and each and every one of them stopped to try and persuade him to allow them to take him to the med bay. He simply told them he needed to get back to _her_ , not that he specified who _her_ was and they nodded curiously to obey. That kind of loyalty was the kind he strove for in the First Order, from the top earning officers right down to the sanitation Stormtroopers.

 

Mitaka had already been commed and instructed to send a medic to his quarters, he quite clearly needed medical attention but Lucilla was more important. He needed her to see what he was willing to do for her; not only to spill his own blood but Ren’s as well. It was a rather barbaric and graphic display, he couldn’t deny that but it was truth, dedication. It may have been too much for her but she still stood there with obvious worry ironed into her angelic features.

 

The medic arrived and even while he worked and the General was being cleaned up, they never took their eyes off each other. Silently one regarded the other; Lucilla by the fireplace and Hux being tended to on the sofa. Advised that there was no internal bleeding or broken bones, he was prescribed pain medication which he could get dispensed down in the med bay. It seemed to be all surface tissue damage, the usual from a brawl. They were soon left alone.

 

The flames suckling on an imported log were the only breaks in a tense, pained silence. She was easier to read now than she ever had been. Her verbal reactions aside; the way her eyes swept each wound, watched the prodding examination for nerve damage and her stature tightened as his ribs were checked for bruising. Admittedly, she’d looked away when his lip was being stitched. It all told him what he needed to know.

 

_“Why?”_

“He wanted another night.” Lucilla’s eyes flickered sideways and her jaw gave an involuntary twitch. One of his eyes might have been swollen but he saw it all. He found that the combination of voicing his feelings and watching her unravel drove him into an emotional state of his own; mostly cracking desperation for her to understand and accept what he’d done. “I couldn’t let it happen, little dove. I couldn’t let him do that again. I had to do _something. Anything.”_

 

_“You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”_

“I know. But I did it for you. To protect you. To keep him away from you. You need to understand that, little dove.”

 

Before Hux knew it, Lucilla had crossed the room and carefully climbed in her General’s lap, the less injured side of his face was cupped and her forehead was placed against his.

 

 _“Don’t you ever do something so reckless again!”_ His dark haired darling crumbled into soft whimpers and immediately; a calloused, ungloved hand lifted to her cheek to swipe away her tears.

“I won’t, little dove. I promise I won’t.”

 

 

 

 

 

Hux never thought he’d feel such relief and comfort again as having Lucilla back in their bed where she belonged. His little dove slept with her General’s head resting on her chest and her delicate arms holding him close but he remained wakeful. What if he hadn’t won? What if Ren had succeeded in cheating? He wouldn’t have stood a chance if he hadn’t caught him in time. Neither would Lucilla. Ren probably wouldn’t have killed him but he certainly would have made his existence unbearable.

 

When the pair met in the training room, Hux opted to keep his gloves on and just let primal instincts take over; the raw drive to fight for his mate. The redhead didn’t even take any notice of the rare sight of Kylo Ren without his helmet; it was immaterial, just more of him to attack. Blaster and lightsaber were laid to the side and excess clothing such as Ren’s cloak and Hux’s greatcoat were set aside.

 

Then, out of nowhere; they clashed. Hux waited, circling the taller male with those icy eyes unwavering. He had training, Ren didn’t. Ren relied on the Force while the General used pure intimidation in their day to day and now Hux would use that intimidation to get the Knight to strike him first. He did. Hux took it into the jaw, it was hard but Ren’s stance was off. He clearly had no idea how this worked. He’d let him keep going, tire himself out.

 

Maybe it was the weight of Ren’s robes that restricted him; then again Hux’s uniform was hardly light. Regardless, Ren took the General’s boot hard into the back of the knee, causing him to collapse onto it with an anguished roar. With his head bent back to scream, the redhead mercilessly collided his elbow hard into the drop out Jedi’s face, forcing him down onto the training mat, straining the damaged knee even further.

 

Hux was haunted by the marks on his little dove’s body, the way she looked at him with absolute betrayal in those unmistakable eyes; it burned him all over again and Ren was going to feel it. By now, Kylo Ren panted on the floor on his back. The General bled profusely, his injuries exaggerated by his own exertion. Flooded with agony and adrenaline; the redhead continued to circle like a shark, high on his own gore.

 

“Do you concede?” Hux asked with a calmness that didn’t quite match his savage demeanour. “Do you concede to leave Lucilla to me, never to bother her again?” The Knight turned over sluggishly onto his stomach, wincing as he did so and coughed on the floor; he too spat crimson with his wounds far more accentuated than the General’s. However, Kylo Ren was not known for bowing out graciously.

 

 **“No…”** The dark haired male responded weakly, bringing up another mouthful of blood onto the training mat. Some sanitation Troopers would delight in the gossip of how the blood got there but not so much in cleaning it up. Whether or not one of them would guess it was their superior officers skirmishing over a woman (the most beautiful woman in the galaxy with the nature and face of an angel if General Hux was consulted on the matter) would be impossible to tell. They would listen for the whispers.

 

“Very well.” Only then did Hux notice Ren’s outstretched hand, the light snickering of shuddering metal snapped his eyes to the lightsaber on the side-lines, inching towards its master. Needless to say, the older of the two males wasn’t going to tolerate that. Ren didn’t quite know what happened; all he remembered was looking down in absolute revulsion and physical torment as his wrist was sandwiched between the mat and the General’s heavy boot, severing the connection between him and the saber.

 

Hux had revelled in the sickest was possible at the **crunch** that met his ears. The medic would later diagnose that as Ren’s wrist being broken in three places, the bones almost crushed. The General grabbed him by the raven hair and hauled him up a few inches, just enough to exert power. The Knight’s wrist flopped, useless and rubbery with the force he was yanked with; the alpha was pleased.

 

“Are you going to continue this floundering, pathetic display of stubbornness? I will ask you one more time. Do you concede? Are you going to let Lucilla and I to our business without interfering with your vile, carnal urges?” Kylo Ren looked up into that pallid face with more hatred than usual; Lucilla was his first and always would be. Did the General know that by now? Maybe. Something sentimental in the Knight wanted him to keep the creature that had spoiled him, however unwillingly. This wasn’t over.

 

 **“Fine!! Yes!! I concede!! Keep your whore!!”** The words left his mouth and Ren was released with another swift, brutal lash of a uniform boot to the side of the face resulting in a dumb grunt.

 

“I told you not to call her that.”

 

 

 

 

The General was disturbed from his recollection by the pressing of soft lips against random patches of unharmed skin on his face. Lucilla was awake.

 

  _“You should be resting.”_ She informed him tiredly before resuming her adoring pecks. He was far better now that he had been cleaned up and stitched but he still looked worse for wear.

 

“The adrenaline is still in me, little dove; I’ll drift eventually.” That wasn’t necessarily true. The adrenaline had dissipated some time ago but he didn’t think she’d approve of him re-living the fight. He certainly couldn’t tell her the true reason for Ren’s participation and it wasn’t just one more night.

 

  _I can’t kiss you properly.”_

“It would be unpleasant for both of us.” Her General agreed, lacing her fingers with his and resuming his head on her chest. Another tender peck to the forehead drew out a small grimace of a smile from the comfortable male.

_“Well?”_

“Well what?”

_“Was it worth it?”_

“Darling, I’d do it again right now if you asked me to.”

“ _I won’t do that to you just yet. How will you face him tomorrow?”_

“Proud and with every injury and stich on display that my uniform will allow. Proof that I fought for my little dove.”

_“Your other officers won’t know that. Wake me before you leave for the bridge.”_

 

 

Lucilla dozed, hesitant to sleep properly in case her General needed her. After all, he still had to command the bridge in the morning while she could sleep until lunch time if she chose. But something prickled at her General; something she’d said to him, something that (at the time) made no sense but the more he thought about it, there seemed to be an unclear implication behind it.

 

“Lucilla?”

_“Mmm?”_

“When you were in the bath, you said I handed you over like a cantina whore, what did you mean?”

_“It doesn’t matter.”_

“It does matter. What did you mean?”

 

 

She wasn’t averse to using that kind of language in the throes of passion or just for his benefit when they were in the heat of it. So it struck him as odd that she’d use it when she was broken and deceived in a bath of cold water, when her mind wasn’t on anything at all. It probably wasn’t something Ren said to her, he doubted it. Maybe…..

 

 _"_ _Did you never wonder how I came to you a virgin but was almost completely competent in doing the things a virgin shouldn’t know how to do?”_ He’d never really thought about it. He just assumed…. He didn’t know what he assumed. She did her duty well so he didn’t question it. At least not at the time.

 

 “I…. I can’t say I did….” Hux easily removed himself from Lucilla’s arms and sat up with a strained groan. His companion’s eyes only started to open now. Perhaps he was in for another bout of harrowing and disturbing revelations of her past, from before he could protect her. “Lucilla, tell me.”

 

 "W _e were brought to cantinas; the back rooms, the private rooms, the undergrounds. Maybe four or five of us at a time; dressed in normal enough clothes, inconspicuous. Always on different parts of different planets. Never the same one twice.”_ The General had a sinking feeling by the way she passed her hand through her hair and her voice had hollowed, like she was trying to remove herself from it.

 

  _“We had to watch the returned ones-“_

“Returned ones?”

_“The ones that were deflowered by their masters and returned to the compound. They were sent to cantinas for patrons to use. Their earnings were given to the ones who kept us. That’s how we learned what we needed to know, what our masters would want us to know.”_

 

 

Hux, as gently as he could (for both himself and Lucilla) eased her back against his chest and laid his cheek against the top of her head. She’d told him about her origins, the basis on which she’d been chosen by his father but never the ins and outs of what she’d endured before that happened.

 

  _“They used it as a scare tactic. If you don’t behave, that’s what you’ll become. And it worked. For the ones who survived.”_ Her master wasn’t sure how she kept herself even; it would traumatize even him. Lucilla was held across her stomach, her master’s fractured nose lightly poised against her cheek in a vain attempt to comfort her.

 

  _“Suicide was high. Nearly every week or two. I told you about Aleen? The girl I used to live with, the one whose master branded her? She slit her wrists in the bath with a shaving razor. I’ve never seen so much blood….”_

“Little dove.” He held her face in one hand and cradled her waist with the other. The little cool drops onto his skin should have told him she’d cracked. He wanted to kiss her but the stiches in his lip would unnerve her. “You’re safe. You will never endure that again, I won’t allow it.” It seemed Lucilla, in all her hardship, had been lucky.

 

  _“They herded them in front of a crowd and bid on them like cattle.”_

“Not you?”

 

 " _No. I was too valuable for that. My price range was higher. Highest, in fact. I was an advertisement, only open for negotiations for units like your father had. That said, I was sometimes put into line-ups for variety inside the compound, not outside. Only serious clients were allowed inside.”_

_"_ _I was the one chosen for your father’s inspection based on his list. A few others were brought in for it, to make me stand out and he chose the right one.”_ The cold rumbling of **“That one”** would always stay with her.

 

“Think of it as fate, little dove.” Her master tightened his grip comfortingly on her waist while his other hand stroked the still damp silk of her cheek. “Or don’t think of it at all. But you’re here now, none of that is ever going to happen to you again. Neither is Kylo Ren. Go to sleep, little dove.”

 

_“Goodnight, General.”_

“Lieutenant.” Mitaka jumped to attention. The General was nearly fully healed as he strode the platform of the bridge towards the darker haired officer, posture and uniform pristine as always. “At ease.” A datapad was thrust into the Lieutenant’s chest and he scrambled to catch it.

 

“I have an off-vessel task for you. You leave tomorrow. Open the file.”

“Sir?” He did as he was commanded, eyes flickering over the brief and the image.

“Your costs will be covered, however long it takes. That image is exactly what I need, the cost is irrelevant and I want you to contact me when you find something."

"General, this is-"

"I'm aware. Don’t come back without it, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir.” He could be confused when the General was gone. 


	15. Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitaka returns from his mission and the object of importance is revealed. Lucilla isn't sure how to feel but then she is.

_“His expression was serious, but I liked how it softened slightly when he looked at me. Like the way he looked at me was different from how he looked at everyone else.” Amy Tintera._

 

 

 

Eyes closed to the incredible sensation, the General’s breathing was deep and steeped in utter enjoyment. He could feel her fingers; dainty as they massaged with the light pressure that did not quite reach his feet like they usually did. Hux’s head tipped back and a slight groan escaped those usually pursed lips.

 

“I forgot how pleasurable this can be when the proper time is taken.” He uttered to the tiny female behind him as she reached up and worked her fingers into his lathered scalp, not kneading but flexing her fingers gently in a rhythm that still managed to get right to the root.

 

 _“Most things can be pleasurable if you give them the proper time.”_ Lucilla countered with her usual sweet softness, now satisfied that every fiery strand had been attended to. “ _Close your eyes_.” He did and felt the still warm bath water wash over his head, rinsing through his hair, aided by Lucilla’s fingers until no suds remained. _“Done.”_

With that task accomplished, the General slid back in the bathtub so his long, pale toes stuck out of the water. The back of his head rested against her naked chest and her arms wrapped around his shoulders, meeting at the front at his chest.

 

 _“Shall I tell you what I’m thinking?”_ Lucilla inquired quietly in her master’s ear, laying a kiss to his lobe once she had done so while his hand trailed lazily up and down her leg, one sat on each side of his waist.

 

“Tell me, little dove.” He murmured, eyes still closed as the water dripped from his hair and the ripples from their movements ebbed away at the kinks in his muscles.

 

 _“I think we should get out, get dried and have an early night.”_ She told with yet another amicable kiss to his earlobe. _“Because you are quite clearly exhausted.”_

The redhead heaved a blissful sigh; he was comfortable in the bathtub but the water would go cold eventually. At least the bed would stay warm and it would be much easier to hold Lucilla, he could look at her and kiss her which his current position prevented him from doing.

 

“Where would I be without you, Rose of my Empire?”

 _“Washing your own hair, I would imagine, General.”_ That elicited a brief but tired chuckle from the eldest of the two. She wasn’t wrong.

“You’re absolutely right. Come, we’ll get dried and into bed. I do feel the pull of fatigue.”

 

 

Lucilla was held as always; guardingly, jealously. Her head rested on his bare chest while two firm arms encased her. Either his cheek or his chin rested on the top of her head or his nose would bury into her hair, greedily taking in the scent of berries from his childhood. Lucilla didn’t mind how she was held as long as she was.

 

Both their injuries were fully healed by now; the first thing the General had done upon the last stitch in his lip dissolving was making a brief detour to his quarters where his companion was sought out and kissed like she had never really been kissed before(despite Mitaka’s presence). He left without a word while she blushed at the sudden impulsive act.   

 

Both had recovered from their physical wounds, the General had been forgiven and Kylo Ren’s name was never mentioned. It had (understandably) taken Lucilla a while to come around from that particular incident; not to mention relaying to her master the humiliation and horror she had endured before she was gifted to him.

 

That in itself had prompted a mission to the Undercity of Coruscant. Drowsy and all as the General was; her voice when she spoke about it had pained him, he couldn’t have imagined her face. Now as he recalled it, his eyes burned and his chest tightened. He had heard nothing from Mitaka yet but however long it took, he would wait. It would be more than worth it.

 

 _“General?”_ Maybe she wasn’t asleep after all.

“Yes, little dove?”

 _“I forgot to ask. Where is Lieutenant Mitaka?”_ The shy, dark haired officer had been absent in the last day or so. Her meals had been brought to her by a staunch, disapproving woman who looked the companion up and down with something akin to disgust.

 

“Mitaka is away on official First Order business, little dove. Classified.” Her General answered with a tired husk but placed a kiss to the side of her neck nonetheless. “Do you miss him?”

 

 _“I was just surprised when my meals and clothes were brought to me by someone else, that’s all.”_ Lucilla replied but something about her tone suggested that she wasn’t too happy with the situation, he knew her well enough by now to know when she was displeased with something. And that wasn’t very often.

 

“Tell me, little dove.” He probed with yet another kiss against her neck but she adjusted her head to ensure the next one landed on her lips.

 

_“There’s nothing to tell, General.  Just the woman who has been fulfilling Lieutenant Mitaka’s duty is not very pleasant. It’s nothing to be concerned about.”_

“I love how you try to spare me trouble. But that’s not good enough, I’m afraid. Not very pleasant how, darling?”

 

 _“She’s just very….. Disapproving?”_ Lucilla tried to find the right word as she conceded. _“She’s smug, like she’s looking down on me? Condescending, I suppose? Like she knows what I am-“_

 

“Lucilla, you haven’t been _that_ for a long time.” He reminded her with another amicable and lasting press to her lips. “I’ll have someone else bring your meals from now on. Just until Mitaka returns.”

 

After the incident on Starkiller with Mitaka, the General had toyed with the idea of changing Lucilla’s care to someone else. He thought maybe a female member of the staff; she might not be so uncomfortable though he was aware she was fond of Mitaka. He was glad now that he didn’t make that change, especially with this revelation.

 

It had escaped his realization that another woman might behave enviously towards his companion when Lucilla bore absolutely no malice whatsoever. In fact, unwarranted hostility would confuse her if anything.

 

She was beautiful; anything she could ever want (bar freedom to leave the quarters) would be fetched for her and she was the apple of a very powerful man’s eye. What woman wouldn’t be resentful of her?

 

 _“Thank you, General_.” Lucilla’s dark, butterfly lashes closed down as she settled into relaxation. Head still resting on her master’s chest, one arm was stretched across his torso while the other stayed by her side. _“Did you finish that speech?”_

 

 

“I did, I’ll show it to you tomorrow.” Hux promised, dipping his head down to nuzzle his nose into her hair. If this wasn’t bliss, nothing would be. He prided himself on preparedness; he felt it was sensible to have the christening speech of Starkiller prepared but he didn’t think he’d be using it so soon. “I’m apprehensive of how it will be received.”

 

 

_“A lion doesn’t concern himself with the opinion of sheep, General. Remember that.”_

“Wise doesn’t begin to describe you, empress.”

_“Mmmm….”_

“Rest, little dove. I’ll wake you when I’m getting dressed.” He didn’t think she heard that part.

 

 

 

 

Lucilla woke the next morning to murmuring but only one voice. Bleary eyed and in that place between awake and asleep, she could just about make out he was on the com. Tucked to her General’s side, his arm stretched around her shoulder and rested the palm of his hand on her back, the other held the com.

 

 

She shifted slightly with a sleepy groan then was pulled tighter to his thin but firm side, his conversation continuing regardless.

 

 

“Excellent, Lieutenant.” He was doing his best to keep his voice low but it seemed Lucilla was already awake. “Tie up any loose ends and make your way back here. Ensure it is treated properly before you hand it over. It is to be completely stripped.”

 

 

She didn’t inquire as to the nature of the call. Lieutenant Mitaka was on classified First Order business, it wasn’t her place to ask nor (she assumed) would she ever know. With the com set aside, her General rolled onto his side and his forehead was pushed against Lucilla’s as if he intended to go back to sleep.

 

“Tell me I don’t have to go to the bridge.” He mumbled with his eyes closed and his companion pulled close.

 

 _“Give me your uniform and I’ll go for you.”_ The dark haired darling answered alluringly innocent with sleep still in her system. She didn’t expect one of her General’s icy blue eyes to open and regard her with interest but she descended into charming giggles.

 

“Now that I’d like to see.” Came the roused growl as he rolled onto her and pinned her to the bed. The delightful bouts of laughter continued as he smothered her neck until they were silenced by his lips against hers. Passion, longing, affection, kindness; it was all there on both sides. Until the redhead pulled away with a frustrated groan.

 

“I can’t. I need to get dressed.” Lucilla’s hand caught his in an attempt to pull him back to bed as he moved off her but her General was stronger. He managed to pry himself away with a gentlemanly kiss to her hand before she sunk back into the pillows in playful defeat.

 

Only a year ago, if someone had told him he would be tempted back to bed by a dark haired woman rather than going to the bridge, he would have had them sent to reconditioning but here he was.

 

 _“I think you should give Lieutenant Mitaka the rest of the day to himself.”_ His blue eyed beauty sat up in bed now with the sheets strewn almost in protest of him leaving. Observing her in the reflection of the mirror while he tamed his hair, he found himself bending to her will. _“He’s worked exceptionally hard, I would imagine.”_

“I think you could be right, little dove.” Hux agreed, picking up his cufflinks. She knew his routine well by now. “If what he’s told me is true and I have every reason to believe it is; he’s done extremely well. He’s due back in the afternoon, his duties can resume tomorrow.” Dressed and ready, Lucilla was kissed again before her General went to assume his command.

 

When Hux returned, Lucilla was waiting. There was something predatory in the way they watched each other. He carried something, a velvet bag; she ignored it. She kept her place in front of the fireplace, inviting him with slow lowerings of her lashes and her short, silk night robe covering everything it should. For now.

 

“Bedroom.” Fully clothed and completely sober; her master followed her, the strings of the bag clutched tight in his still gloved hand. The sliding door was shut and his companion’s lips were claimed with the same fire they had earlier.

 

“Lie down.” Of course, Lucilla obeyed; lying down in the middle of the bed where they would have plenty of room. His gloves were stripped and the velvet bag landed on the dresser with a sharp thud. Curious, she lifted her head and watched as his hand reached in.

 

The white, newly shined object took its new place on the dresser and Lucilla stared, her stomach turning slightly as she did so. She almost didn’t even realize her General had kicked off his boots and tossed his coat before crawling up the bed to her.

 

 _“General? What is that?”_ She knew what it was but she needed confirmation.

“That, little dove….” Hux began, pressing his cool lips to Lucilla’s neck but she still stared, as if not feeling him. “Is a fresh, human skull.”

 

Fears confirmed, she didn’t seem to be able to remove her sapphire gaze from the macabre object. It stared at her with invisible eyes and she stared back. Dumbfounded, she didn’t know how else to react.

 

_“And why is there a skull in our bedroom?”_

 

Her robe had been undone and a gap of a mere few inches, about the size of the space between her breasts was opened. The kisses dropped lower and lower, staying within the confines of the gap but he had no intention of answering her just yet.

 

Lucilla’s gaze faltered momentarily when her eyes closed automatically at the feeling of his tongue stroking her clit and seeking out the honey he had tasted before. An ivory hand passed through his fiery strands as her breathing hitched; subtle signs of encouragement.

Her distraction broke and her attention returned to the skull but still stroked his hair absentmindedly with one knee bent and the other leg thrown over his shoulder. What had he done? And why did he seem so proud of it?

 

She had heard of that kind of behaviour in cats (not that she had ever owned one); they kill and bring their prey home to their loved ones. Should she have been afraid? The occasional gasp or flickering of her eyelids would disturb her when he hit a sweet spot with the variants of his tongue movements but for the most part, her gaze never left the skull.

 

When he looked up to monitor the reactions that he loved so much, he found that (as he should have expected) the skull had captivated her and not necessarily in a good way. He stopped and she barely noticed. His tunic, his undershirt, and his trousers were removed and tossed aside; closely followed by his socks and underwear.

 

Naked, her General lay beside her, leaning over so his arm crossed over her torso and kept her on the bed while he leaned his face in close to hers; his voice quiet.

 

“That skull belongs to or should I say _used_ to belong to a man named Varden Zedar. You know that name, don’t you, little dove?”

 

Lucilla’s eyes widened in understanding and now more than ever, all she could do was stare. Hux had started to lather her neck again and this time she was far more responsive. Her head tilted, her eyes half closed but it remained turned in that same direction.

 

 _“He ran the compound…. He ran the whole operation….”_ His lips lifted and his nose rested against her cheek almost in a comforting fashion.

 

“I couldn’t bear to see you melancholic, little dove.” He breathed, stroking her other cheek with his spare hand. “Now he’s yours.”

 

Before he realized it and before he could prepare himself, Hux found himself on his back with his companion’s knees on either side of his waist; straddling him against the bed. Looking up with something akin to surprise; he found her smouldering, desire stricken.

 

_“Is that what you sent Mitaka away for?”_

“He doesn’t seem like the kind of man who can decapitate someone, does he?”

_“No, indeed he doesn’t.”_

“I gave him the means, I gave him the orders and he took it from there. He’s cleverer than he lets on.”

 

That was the last of the conversation. There was almost desperation in that kiss now with the way it batted back and forth between them; the mutual need to pleasure the other was there. Lucilla leaned down and Hux found himself behind the dark curtain of his companion’s hair, surrounded by the sweet smell.

 

The redhead’s large hands palmed every inch of skin as lips and tongues fought mercilessly, open-mouthed and wet. Who would have thought his precious Lucilla had a dark side? That she would be so aroused by the death of another human being, their crimes aside. Her thighs were gripped to direct her and with a pleasured hiss, his darling Lucilla sank her full weight down onto his length.

 

Foreheads pressed hard together, one daring the other to move away first; their mutual thrusts met in the middle, hard, fast and rough. Both rocked their hips viciously in an effort to outdo each other and simultaneously, their foreheads seemed to separate.

 

It was replaced instead with yet another brutal and sloppy kiss. Whether the General’s quarters were soundproof or not, Lucilla didn’t know but if they weren’t; the Stormtrooper squadron patrolling the hallway were sure to hear some strange noises.

 

Skin slapped off skin, the light squelching of body fluids separating and reuniting with every savage thrust and of course, the shameless moans that neither the ebony locked companion or her ginger master bothered to restrain.

 

Lucilla ripped herself away from her General and straightened up but still continued colliding her lower quarters with his, primal urges being sated with every movement. She was close and he would soon follow.

 

Her head tipped back, the ends of her curls dancing on his knee caps and he couldn’t help but stare at the magnificence that pledged herself to him on a daily basis. Gods, she was beautiful. Even more so when she was screaming, begging herself to come with her face contorted mid-whimper.

 

Lucilla shook with one long, drawn out; guttural moan then went limp against her General’s bent knees but kept herself taut enough for her master to finish. He did only a moment or so later with a feral growl and burying himself as deep as possible and releasing his load inside the female.

 

The blue eyed beauty was plucked off him and laid down on the bed before her body was covered with his. She accepted wholeheartedly, draping an arm across his shoulders and returning the much calmer kiss that was born of their post-coital exhaustion.

 

“Do you like your gift, little dove?” He asked, lips trailing lazily along her jawline; her could feel the crack of a smile under them.

_“I love it.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are wondering.....
> 
> His tone darkened only slightly, but it was enough to cause the tech to wish the senior officer would resume his wandering. “Biological traces are acceptable,” Hux murmured, “but a couple of skulls would be better." Star Wars: The Force Awakens novelization.


	16. Everything You Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General is required to leave Finalizer for a few days. An odd proposition is made while he's away and Lucilla isn't happy when she finds out.

_In the beginning, said a Persian poet, Allah took a rose, a lily, a dove, a serpent, a little honey, a Dead Sea apple, and a handful of clay. When he looked at the amalgam it was a woman._

 

 

The skull was not treated as an object of fear. Rather it was seen as a symbol by its new owner in the light it was intended; dedication, reverence and eternal devotion, however macabre. Lucilla had still been naked and panting when her General got up and fetched it for her.

 

She held it in sweating, trembling hands as he kissed her shoulder from behind and promised her Varden would never hurt her again. It became part of the room; keeping its place on her dresser so she could look upon it when she brushed her hair or changed for bed.

 

Varden could not have known the little one he had grabbed by the hair in a cantina on Nantoon to force her to watch such terrible, degrading things would hold his skull as a trophy. Not only that, that it would be a gift from her master.

 

Their routine had had some alterations since Lucilla first came to Finalizer. She still helped him with his coat and his gloves, she still poured him a glass of whiskey if he wanted it. She still sat with him, she would still massage his feet and (if he was tenser than usual) extra relief would be provided if needed.

 

Most of the time, she sat on the arm of his chair or his lap and they would talk or kiss or both. After that, they would retire. Depending on the mood, they might get physical and collapse into each other in a sweaty, soiled bed.

 

Other nights, like tonight, he would finish his whiskey (if he had it); they would both get changed and simply enjoy each other’s company in bed. That usually consisted of talking, kissing and affectionate, comforting touches before sleep. Before, she was a pleasure slave. Now, she was a true companion.

 

“Little dove?”

_“Mmm?”_

 

The General’s husk was laden with relaxation; Lucilla’s back was held against his chest, one arm draped over her waist and his chin rested on her shoulder. In this position, he could bury his face in her hair; a comfort he didn’t know he needed until he discovered it.

 

“I have to go away for a few days, my darling.” That made her shift in his arms, changing their position completely so she could see his face and he could see the disappointment in hers. “I need to return to Crucival. Another bout of civil war has broken out under new leadership so we’re going to take advantage of it to replenish the Stormtrooper ranks.”

 

 _“Do you **have** to go?” _ The soft little plea was more than tempting but if he gave in, she would prove to be the distraction he swore he wouldn’t allow her to become in a bid to keep her. To ensure she was comfortable and well looked after; he did need to be able to leave her temporarily to provide for her.

 

“I do, little dove. Other officers from the Academy will be there, there will be questions asked in my absence.” Namely his father and he could do without that inquiry. The more distance he could keep from the Admiral, the better but he wouldn’t be able to avoid him on this occasion. All he could do was conduct his business then get back to Lucilla as quickly as he could.

 

 _“Can’t I go with you?”_ The General closed his eyes. If he didn’t, Lucilla would win. The idea of leaving her alone was distressing enough without her adding to it.

 

“Absolutely not. It’s far too dangerous and I would simply curl up and die if something happened to you, little dove.” It wasn’t a lie. His instruction to Mitaka still stood. Lucilla’s safety is paramount. He felt her arm drape across his shoulder at that particular confession.

 

 _“What about Kylo Ren?”_ They hadn’t mentioned that name since that dreadful night and he would rather have kept it that way. It appeared it wasn’t meant to be and the Knight was bound to be the Bantha in the room when he revealed he had to leave. It would have to be addressed sooner or later.

 

“I’m pleased to say Kylo Ren is not on Finalizer at the moment.” The relief was unparalleled. His arm resumed around her waist, the need for closeness peaked when Ren’s name entered the conversation. “He’s chasing a map of Luke Skywalker across the galaxy.”

 

_“But…. Luke Skywalker is a myth, General?”_

“You know that, little dove and I know it but as long as Kylo Ren doesn’t know it and stays off the ship while I’m away, I’ll leave him to it.”

 

They were quiet again for a few moments. He didn’t want to leave her and he did doubt there would be overlap in the time he would be away and Kylo Ren’s return. Still, he was uneasy.

 

 _“How long will you be gone?”_  The question roused him when he didn’t even realize he was drifting off to sleep. Though the room was dark, he could make out those beautiful, pale features when he opened his eyes. Her dismay was more than obvious still.

 

“Two or three days, I expect though I will try to conduct my business and return as quickly as possible.”

_“You’ll come back in one piece, won’t you?”_

“I’ll certainly do my best, little dove.”

 

 

 

Crucival was a horrendous planet. Desolate, dying, arid and rocky; why would anyone fight for this godsforsaken place? The dust that settled on his boots with every step made his nose turn upwards and his lip curl; he’d only just arrived and couldn’t wait to leave.

 

The air was heavy and stuffy, breathing was unpleasant. Whether the Stormtroopers found it easier with their helmets or not, he couldn’t be sure. The General hailed from Arkanis; a cool, wet planet and Finalizer had been acclimatized similarly for Hux’s comfort. He could tell immediately his stay here wasn’t going to be enjoyable.

 

A pair of Stormtroopers followed him, armed and waiting; their pristine white armour was already smudged with orange dirt. His uniform wouldn’t escape this dreadful place unscathed, he could feel it Already the heat was getting to him and the weighty black of his uniform would have been abandoned by anyone else. But if the General was anything, he was stubborn.

 

The officers gathered in a white tent a short walk from where his shuttle landed, six or seven of them at the most. He was relieved that his uniform was not the only one besmirched by the sandstorm brewing outside. Needless to say, the arrival of the General and his Stormtroopers turned heads.

 

He greeted each in turn, remembering most from the Academy and the ones he didn’t recognize, he assumed had arrived after he left. Their ranks varied but by far the highest was the once flamed headed now greying Admiral. The elder Hux half wondered if his son would bring his companion; then again, he had no idea if he even still had her.

 

“Admiral.” Hux greeted his father last with an amicable nod as if merely greeting a superior officer rather than his own father. It had always been that way; ever since he was a young child, ever since his mother died and he was sent to live full time at the Academy.

 

 **“General.”** The older and slightly taller of the two replied, colder than the other. He refrained from mentioning the companion for now (he didn’t even know her name) if he did at all. They were here on business after all.

 

The days dragged and the nights did too when he couldn’t sleep. He would doze and drift then reach out for the comfort that wasn’t beside him. Bleary; he would feel around, tell himself she had gone to the bathroom. But then when he sat up to wait, he would realize the bed felt different and smaller. Only then would it dawn on him that she wasn’t there.

 

The intense heat of the night and the combined loneliness in the confines of the shuttle made the clawing desperation to return to Finalizer even stronger. He would try to alleviate the pressure by touching himself, tossing and turning in the thin sheets but nothing worked and rest was impossible. His mind wondered what she was doing; probably sleeping.

 

Did she pine for him as much as he did for her (however hesitant he was to admit it, even to himself)? Was she able to rest in an empty bed without him? Of course she could, she could sleep no matter what the circumstances. He could imagine her splayed out; arms, legs and hair everywhere. He smiled weakly at the image.

 

Should he bring her somewhere? Get her off Finalizer for a day or so?  Somewhere quiet where it could just be the two of them? Maybe somewhere beautiful and wild like Naboo? Bring her to the famous waterfall that jumped into his mind whenever he looked into her eyes?

 

In that sense, it was easier to get up in the morning, tear through the day (however slow) and fulfil his purpose on this terrible planet. Sitting in meetings, surveying villages and riffling through his holopad; he would often find his mind drifting to Lucilla. Just in general, thinking about her and missing her. The nights were the hardest, he wouldn’t deny it.

 

Finally, the day of departure came. While the General had tried to secure some of the honey he had told Lucilla about, the Creed were hesitant to part with it and Hux left emptyhanded. He was no longer obligated to be on the planet and with that in mind, he was eager to leave before he could be accosted by his father. But someone else got there first.

 

“General.” Hux recognized the unique drawl of Colonel Damten whom he had studied strategy under at the Academy. He was probably the same age as his father, possibly a few years younger.  He was a tall thin man, no sense of humour (not that Hux could point that finger), a pointed face and a crop of dark hair with a few silver streaks.

 

“Colonel.” Hands were not shaken, simple nods of acknowledgment sufficed mid-stride back towards the General’s shuttle with the Stormtroopers keeping pace behind them. Damten walked beside him and Hux should have known this was going to be something more than reminiscing.

 

“I hear congratulations are in order, General? Starkiller is looking to be a magnificent machine from what we’re hearing back at the Academy.” So his father had been talking.

 

“It is of flawless design and careful construction; when the time comes to use it, the result will be devastating.” Hux confirmed without breaking his march; hands clasped behind his back as usual and posture immaculate. The Colonel was similar.

 

“I’d like to discuss something more personal with you, General.” Damten imposed himself and Hux felt a jolt in his gut. What could a man he hadn’t seen in close to five years possibly want to say to him of a personal nature? He was about to find out.

 

“Your father mentioned you’re still not married, is that correct?” Hux wasn’t quite sure how to react to that particular query. He was rather taken aback by it if anything. If the Colonel noticed, he didn’t comment.

 

“It’s neither true nor false.” The General answered dubiously, neglecting to remove the traces of surprise from his pallid features. He’d never really examined his relationship with Lucilla  but the word ‘marriage’ had never been mentioned, discussed or even thought about to any great extent. And the controversy that would follow….

 

“I don’t understand, General. Are you betrothed? Are you in the process procuring a specific match?”

 

“Well, no. I find myself in something of an exclusive but unconventional arrangement that is not covered by marriage.”

“I see.” The Colonel cocked an eyebrow at the younger man while Hux tried to collect his nerve; the questions were unexpected on a professional trip like this one. “Would you care to elaborate?”

 

“Not as such, no.” The redhead had regained himself to a degree and would be blunt where his personal affairs were concerned. Lucilla was no one’s business but his own. “May I ask why my marital status or lack thereof is a topic of conversation?” _And seemingly not just between you and I, Colonel._

“My daughter has become, what my wife believes to be, a suitable marrying age. She turned twenty two last month, plenty of child bearing years and capability needless to say-“

 

“Fascinating, Colonel but why are you telling me this?” Hux’s bristle was impatient as they reached the dropped ramp of his own shuttle.

 

“It would benefit you hugely.” Colonel Damten was almost smug by the implication. “Stable home life, children to continue your name and legacy and quite a legacy it’s going to be. Plus there would be the added benefit of having a relative of power in the Academy. Very useful for funding projects and the like?”

 

“Did my father put you up to this?”

 

“I approached your father and he confirmed his support for the idea; he said this meeting would be an ideal time to suggest it to you.” The General did all he could not to grind his teeth. So he gifts him Lucilla and less than a year later, he’s advocating a marriage to someone else?

 

“Think about it, General. It would be everything you need.” His former mentor had turned on his heel before Hux could respond. “Contact me with your answer.”

 

 

Hux sat in his seat for a few moments while he processed the spontaneous conversation. It _would_ be everything he needed. But was it everything he wanted?  And the more he thought about, the more he realized what he wanted was to be back on Finalizer with Lucilla.

 

It was late when he felt the touch of home at last. The quarters were in darkness; his dark haired darling was more than likely in bed. Coat and gloves removed; he removed his boots in the armchair in front of the dying embers so as not to disturb Lucilla when he entered the bedroom.

 

Lucilla’s back was to his side of the bed so naturally when he slipped in under the sheets; her waist was gripped and his companion was turned over so her face nuzzled into the hollow of his neck. His heart leapt when her arm crossed over his chest automatically and she cuddled in closer.

 

Had he been tempted by the offer? How could he be when he had everything he wanted right there with her light breath tickling off his collarbone? But there were things Lucilla couldn’t give him. Not in her current state. To bring it up would upset her; it always did.

 

A delicate kiss was pressed to Lucilla’s face, wherever he could without disrupting the position. That woke her. Those incredible blue eyes unseen in any human before opened slowly and her breathing changed from the slow and steady pace of sleep to being (barely) alert.

 

 _“You’re back.”_ The female breathed in sweet and sleepy delight, her arm tightening in a one armed embrace and her face burying back into where he had placed it, laying small kiss to the area. The past few days had indeed been difficult for both of them.

 

“I’m back.” He confirmed quietly, enveloping her fully in his arms and sating the dull, lonely ache that had plagued him while he was away. He slipped down in the bed and pushed his forehead to hers; their unique communication of affection. “And I missed you terribly, little dove.”

 

 _“I missed you too.”_ Came the sincere confession as a fair hand reached to gently stroke his face. No one, not a single person living or dead on any planet would have gotten this close to the General nor would they have been received with the same devotion that Lucilla got on a daily basis. “ _Did you succeed? Did you get what you went for?”_

 

“I did.” The reluctance in the answer brushed a curious glow over Lucilla’s angelic features but she didn’t press the issue. Not yet. “Several families have been persuaded, amounting to about one hundred extra new recruits. I’ll be sending a squadron next week to collect them.”

 

 _“Is everything alright?”_ The last part of his answer was disregarded. Her eyes were trained on his face, taking in everything. Where there should have been relief, pride and accomplishment, she also noticed dismay and unease. _“You seem…. A little off.”_

“Just tired, little dove. Rest was almost impossible, that place is so damn hot. And I’m not used to sleeping in an empty bed. Not anymore.” Lucilla blinked but the stare continued after that. She knew him well enough by now; he never lied to her aside from the night he handed her over to Kylo Ren. Which was how she knew now that something wasn’t right.

 

The General shifted with something akin to discomfort though Lucilla remained in his grasp, she was backing him into a corner without so much as a word. It seemed she had a greater hold than he thought she did.

 

“I was offered a match.” He paused at the admission and wanted to look away from her but couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it. “A marriage. To a Colonel’s daughter. Twenty two years of age. He wants me to contact him with an answer.”

 

Lucilla’s face seemed to fall into an awful mixture of panic and devastation. It happened so slowly that his heart sank at the same rate into a depth he didn’t think it could sink to. Even more so when she pulled her body to put a distance between them.

 

 _“Are… Are you sending me back?”_ He didn’t think he had ever moved so fast in such a confined space. Lucilla was grabbed and pulled back to him despite her hesitation and this time, she was held more securely where he could look into her eyes in a blatant attempt to assure her.

 

“Never, little dove.” His forehead was pushed to hers again and he felt her relax slightly but not entirely. “Never. Even if there was something to send you back to, never!” His voice wouldn’t raise despite how his passion wanted him to but he wouldn’t be apart from her. Those three days had been torturous, how would he cope permanently? He wouldn’t.

 

“The match was suggested, offered.” He explained, forlorn and desperate for her to understand. “It was an offer, nothing more though I think my father is eager for me to take it.”

  _“Are you going to take it?”_ That despondency was still there as if she was afraid to know the answer; he wasn’t sending her back but… He wouldn’t be her’s anymore. The skull would have been just that, no longer a symbol of dedication and devotion to the Rose of his Empire.

 

“Little dove….”

 

 _“You should.”_ His heart cracked when her voice did. _“A Colonel’s daughter, she’s of respectable breeding, no doubt. That will look good for you and she’s younger than me. She’s probably more beautiful than me too.”_

Her eyes closed despite her sudden frantic ramblings in a vain attempt to restrain the tears that threatened to spill onto the pillow. It slowed them but didn’t stop them completely. Was this all born of minimized self worth? Or was she afraid of losing her General?

 

Did she truly want him to have what he needed out of loyalty to her master, despite what it would do to her? Hux watched, petrified and afraid to move. Why?! Why did he open his mouth?! Why was he so easy to read?!

 

 _“She can give you things I can’t.”_ Lucilla continued with a heartbroken sigh, he knew what that meant. She meant children and that had already crossed his mind. _“She can give you everything you need, why shouldn’t you take it?”_

 

“Lucilla.” The female’s cheeks were wiped and an attempt was made to wipe her eyes but she kept shaking her head. “Darling. Please, look at me. Look at me, Lucilla.” Warily, she did just that. Her eyes opened and still watered.

 

“Have you ever considered that maybe what I need is not necessarily what I want?” She didn’t answer though her lip still trembled, her breathing strained and he continued. “Little dove, I’m not taking it. I was never taking it. I wouldn’t dream of it. Everything I want and need is here on Finalizer.”

 

_“Except Kylo Ren.”_

“Except Kylo Ren.” He repeated, relaxing at her stab at humour despite the jolt she had gotten. Her tiny form was cradled comfortingly against his significantly larger one while random kisses of utter adoration were pressed to her face.

 

“I’m not interested in what she can give me. I’m only interested in what you strive to give me every single day and that’s more than enough. That’s all I need for as long as you’re happy to do so. To hell with my father and to hell with the Colonel. He’ll have my answer tomorrow and it won’t be the one he wants.”

 


	17. They Will Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux speaks to Mitaka about Coruscant then contacts the Colonel. Lucilla and her General find themselves putting a new edge on an old activity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Considering writing a spin off couple of chapters about the compound which would ultimately end in Lucilla being bought. Thoughts?

 

 

 

_Within you, I lose myself. Without you, I find myself wanting to be lost again._

 

 

To be summoned to General Hux’s office nearly always ended in reconditioning. No one had ever entered to be commended. So naturally Lieutenant Mitaka was on edge when he walked the shining floors of Finalizer towards his dreaded destination.

 

Of course, the ever jumpy Mitaka in his jittery state didn’t think to assure himself that a request to visit the redhead was not to be reprimanded (or worse) but more to do with his recent mission to Coruscant.

 

A heavy breath was taken as he pressed the buzzer to request entry and it was granted when the door slid open for him. Spacious and comfortable, it was the envy of the other high ranking officers granted such a privilege. Then again, an impressive office wasn’t the only thing General Hux had that other officers on board didn’t.

 

“Sit down, Lieutenant.” Came the smooth order but he still hadn’t looked up from his datapad. Hesitantly, Mitaka obeyed. His frenzied mind didn’t seem to process that to be told to sit down was for his own comfort. If this visit was going to be negative, that luxury would not be afforded to him.

 

A moment or so went by before the datapad was set aside and the General regarded his officer with his hands clasped on the desk in front of him. Mitaka often wondered how this man, this staunch, unfeeling man could dedicate himself so much to another person.

 

He knew he doted on Lucilla. He had often seen him at the end of his command; his walk quicker than usual and his face determined to return to his quarters, to her. Not to mention the care and attention that went into her meals, the treatment of her clothes and acquiring little things to make her more comfortable almost a year later.

 

“Lucilla and I are extremely pleased with you.” The statement woke Mitaka from his wonderings and relief flooded him that it was his mission and not incompetence that brought him here. While Dopheld Mitaka did not have the expected disposition of a First Order officer, he was far from incompetent. In fact, he had surprised himself with his willingness to cut off a man’s head only a few days previous.

 

“In fact it was her suggestion to relieve you of your duties for the rest of the day upon your return.”

 

“Thank you, sir.” It was quiet, almost reverent.

 

“Her gift was well received and I’m sure you, as well as I Lieutenant, were pleased to see justice served for her.”

 

“More than anything, sir.

 

“More to the point, you carried it out.”

 

“Yes, sir. Gladly.”

 

“Tell me about what happened on Coruscant. Speak freely.”

 

Mitaka sat back in his chair. Where to start? He supposed from before he arrived on Coruscant.

 

“I had collected intel from First Order scouts in the area before I left, contacted them and by the time I arrived, they had a location for him. They also provided me with contact information with rival gangs.”

 

The General nodded; pleased already with the attention to detail Mitaka had taken upon himself in order for this to run as smoothly as possible. He was about to become more impressed.

 

“I enlisted their help to stalk the compound while I was inside; we devised a system and a signal and they were paid a significant amount, overpaid in fact to ensure the siege on the compound was successful. I felt to request a squadron of Stormtroopers would attract too much attention to the operation.”

 

“Very true, it would have.”

 

“I found Zedar alone in a cantina in the Undercity. I approached him and told him I was interested in purchasing a companion for myself. He looked me over, no doubt taking in the condition of my clothes to determine my wealth. He asked me what I would be willing to spend and I told him I would pay the right amount for the right companion. He asked me if I had a preference and I told him I didn’t but I’d like to see what he had so we left for the compound.”

 

“Were you shown a line-up?”

 

“No, sir. He brought me to another room and asked me a series of questions, such as how I found out about his operation and the like. I simply said word of mouth.”

 

“You wore plain clothes for this mission, am I correct?”

 

“Yes, sir. The less attention attracted to the Order, the better.”

 

“Very good. Continue.”

 

“I told him I knew of someone who had one of his companions. I had seen her, she was well trained and I was assured value for money by her master if I bought from there.”

 

It was strange to hear Mitaka speak in such a way but the General didn’t comment, just nodded along. It seemed that sort of rhetoric had gotten the job done so he wouldn’t argue. The Lieutenant had obviously done his research.

 

“I asked him if he recalled a girl called Lucilla.” Mitaka paused and swallowed. “He said he knew of no girl called Lucilla.”

 

The General stared at him. It was probably the first time Mitaka had seen his General caught off guard and speechless. His mind automatically cast back to his initial conversation with his father when Lucilla arrived. His father didn’t know her name. It seemed it wasn’t just about the Admiral not caring enough to find out.

 

“He said sometimes the girls gave each other names if they couldn’t remember their own but he and the compound workers only knew them by numbers.” Mitaka continued uneasily. “He said Lucilla might not even be her real name.”

 

Hux shifted uncomfortably in his seat. She’d never mentioned that before. Maybe she was ashamed of it. Perhaps it was the one thing, her name, that she had been given by someone other than those dreadful people that she could hold onto. Before she came to him, of course. He tried not to sound dismayed but he was sure he failed drastically.

 

“I see. What else?”

 

“I described Miss Lucilla, told him she was bought by the Admiral. He remembered her, said he had been tempted to keep her for himself.” Both males seemed even more uncomfortable by that revelation but Mitaka slightly more. Hux knew nothing of Varden as such but the Lieutenant had the displeasure of dealing with him. The decapitation was a condolence.

 

“I trust there’s nothing left of the compound?”

 

“Nothing, General. The girls were removed and paid off. The remaining staff of the compound were executed  and their bodies burned with the rest of the compound by the rival gangs.”

 

“You’re sure none of those girls will be captured?”

 

“I made it my business to ensure they saw me decapitate Varden. I warned them of scouts in the area who would alert me to foul play. So far, nothing has been reported, General.”

 

“And you found nothing on Lucilla?” If that is her real name. He still reeled from the idea but hopefully he seemed composed enough to the Lieutenant.

 

“Nothing, sir. He would not divulge her number to me, I tried everything-“

 

“Even-?” Like decapitation, the idea of Mitaka torturing someone was very out of place with his meek demeanour. But it seemed the officer had a similar dedication to Lucilla that Hux himself had.

 

“Yes, sir. No photographs, files, nothing.”

 

“Very well. Thank you, Lieutenant. You may resume your duties, I’m sure Lucilla is expecting you soon. And Lieutenant….”

 

Mitaka stopped on his way to the door and turned around when called again.

 

“Your mission is to remain secret. You are not to divulge details to anyone. Lucilla is a very private matter, the less that is known about her by the general population, the better.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Dismissed.”

 

 

 

He had every intention of refusing the Colonel’s proposal. Both Lucilla and Damten had been correct when they stated it was what he needed but Hux was strong in the resolve that what he needed was not what he wanted.

 

His command was over until the morning and his companion waited for him; that was far more appealing than applying for personal leave to go and breed a woman he didn’t know and maybe wouldn’t like. Plus, it would probably destroy Lucilla.

 

The Colonel wanted to be contacted with an answer and Hux would comply with that request but it was the only request he would obey. He made a stop in his office after the closing command on the bridge and requested the Colonel’s personal line.

 

**“General.”**

 

“Colonel.”

 

**“You’re well I trust? You did well on Crucival; the report was on my desk this morning, very impressive and all done by negotiations alone.”**

 

“My position was secured with as little bloodshed as possible and I would like to keep it that way for as long as possible though the time will come to besmirch it.”

 

**“What can I do for you, General?”**

 

“I wanted to give you the curtesy of responding to your offer in the most personal way possible, Colonel. While I’m flattered by the consideration, I’m afraid I must decline.” There was silence for a moment or so and when the Colonel did speak again, the restrained annoyance was palpable.

 

**“I see. She’ll be disappointed to hear that. It’s an exceptional offer, a match you will not so easily come by again but if your mind is made up, I would imagine there is nothing I can do to change it. May I ask why?”**

 

“As I stated on Crucival, I am already in something of an arrangement that is extremely beneficial to me and foolish doesn’t begin to describe what I would be to endanger it.”

 

 **“You have a companion.”** Hux swallowed but hoped it wasn’t audible. He couldn’t begin to find the words for Lucilla and what she was to him but ‘companion’ just didn’t cover it anymore. Not that it was anything to do with the Colonel.

 

“Simply put, yes, I do.” He should have realized every word of this conversation would be reported to his father. Perhaps he didn’t care, he knew what he wanted and he knew what he didn’t.

 

 **“And what is preventing you from having both? My daughter would never see the inside of Finalizer and I’m sure it’s all your _companion_ knows.”** That thought had occurred to him and he hated himself almost immediately after when the implications unfolded themselves in his mind.

 

“Not that it’s on a need to know basis, Colonel but my companion is far more than just that. And I would have thought you would have been advocating more respect for your daughter than to be kept bored in a house on Arkanis and only seen when I have time for a possible conception.”

 

It seemed that didn’t go down well. The Colonel’s breathing on the com had increased and though he had never seen Damten angry, the sounds of it (as with any human) were unmistakable on the com. Whether it was more about Lucilla or his daughter, Hux couldn’t decipher.

 

**“You’re turning down my daughter for some urchin whore of unknown backgrounds? No breeding, no guarantees?  Am I hearing this correctly?”**

 

“In essence, Colonel, you’re correct. And I have no inclination to continue a conversation where I will have to defend my companion from someone who knows nothing about her. So goodnight, Colonel and thank you for your time.”

 

 **“May your bastards be scrawny and sickly and may your whore die in labour!”** The line went dead after that venomous spit.

 

But she won’t.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As always, Lucilla waited for her General at the usual time. Most of the time, he was tired and just preferred to be fawned over. Other times, he was already roused by something when he arrived and she was there to relieve him. When the door slid open to admit him (only he, Mitaka and Phasma had codes; Lucilla couldn’t leave if she wanted to), he seemed…. Off?

 

He accepted the greeting kiss before she went to take his coat and he seemed more hesitant than usual to break apart. She left the coat for a moment and cupped his face in both her soft, dainty hands as those incredible blue eyes swept over him curiously.

 

_“What’s the matter?”_

“Nothing, little dove.” Hux answered quietly, briefly warming her hands with his before attending to his own coat. The movement involved in the action removed her hands from his face and left her standing there while he removed his own gloves. “I’ve just had a strange day, that’s all.”

 

 _“You know you can’t lie to me.”_ He looked up from where he’d decided to pour his own glass. There was no malice or anger, still just curiosity. _“Why do you try?”_  

 

“Not a lie, little dove.” Glass in hand, her General was still quiet as he crossed the room to her and placed an amicable kiss to her temple but he remained close; pressing his forehead to hers. She knew it to be a longing for comfort. “Just…. Still processing.”

 

 _“I think you should finish that and come to bed.”_ His companion’s hand found his free one and the fingers were interlinked and ready to lead him though it was still moderately early. As suggested, he finished the small measure, set down the glass and followed.

 

Hux sat on the bed to begin undressing but found himself distracted from the task when Lucilla perched herself on his lap. Another gentle kiss was exchanged and she seemed to just hold him; one small hand cupping his face again while the other draped across the back of his shoulders.

 

 _“Tell me.”_ She encouraged tenderly, barely moving her lips away from his but just enough to give them room to speak. He was hesitant. The match was rejected but he doubted it would be the last he’d hear on the matter.

 

“I spoke to the Colonel.” She drew back slightly to monitor his face but he continued. “Needless to say, he was far from pleased. He said terrible things…. About you.” That didn’t seem to faze her. If anything she reclaimed his lips and gave a soothing stroke to his face, a silent declaration that everything was alright.

 

“ _They don’t understand_.” Lucilla breathed, pulling back again and locking her eyes with his. “ _Their world is all about regimen and alliances; scratching someone’s back for something in return. Bringing children into their terrible world just as insurance policies and name carriers, it's disgusting.”_ Hux remembered it, that had been his own purpose. His mother had tried to prevent that for him but did not succeed.

 

 _“They are so wrapped up in formality, marriage for the sake of securing titles and allegiances that they will never see beyond it. They will never see what we have and they will never accept it.”_ His arms slid around her waist and held her tight _. “Because they are afraid of it. Anything outside the norm and considered decent is to be despised.”_

 

 _“You don’t belong with them.”_ His blue eyed beauty tucked away a fiery strand that had come loose during his fret and Hux dipped his forehead against her collarbone. _“You belong with me. He saw a fine, strong officer and saw the need to incorporate you into their ways; saw the need to dominate you and control you like a puppet on a string but clearly you are meant for better things. Better things you will achieve on your own."_

 

The General lifted his head and searched Lucilla's with his own. He found true loyalty not obligation. He found real devotion and legitimate affection not a servant's bought will to obey her master. He kissed her; full, passionate, adoring then swept her off his lap.

 

Lucilla’s head was settled against the pillow and her lips were reunited with her General’s in the same fashion. Their slow, combined efforts had Hux out of his uniform in just the right amount of time to be both efficient and sensual.

 

 

She was far easier to undress. The slip was pulled off over her head and tossed aside then the roaming and exploratory touches started; like they didn’t know every inch of each other already but this was different.

 

 

Arousal climbed simply by the way they touched, how their bodies pressed together under the cool of the sheets and how their lips never seemed to part. They were both ready but they seemed lost in this unique display. Lucilla’s leg crossed her General’s waist and that was the unspoken signal that she needed him.

 

 

They both froze simultaneously, arching into each other at that glorious feeling of oneness. It took them a moment to savour it and that seemingly endless kiss paused for just a second while they revelled in this new but old experience.

 

 

When her General finally started to move his hips; it was not rough nor fast nor bruising. Careful and considerate thrusts rocked gently into the significantly smaller female and the kiss resumed once more. That too was gentle.

 

 

Lucilla’s hand laid palm up on the pillow beside her head and it wasn’t long before it was covered by her General’s and their fingers became interlinked. She helped him with some small thrusts of her own to contribute to the intimacy but the slow and soft pace remained the same.

 

 

Their lips parted and his forehead was laid against hers to stare not only into those magnificent eyes but into the purest soul unrivalled by anyone in the galaxy. She stared back and as she did, he knew his decision was the only one he could have made.

 

 

Her free hand found his shoulder where her fingertips ghosted lightly for the comfort of extra touch. Lucilla’s eyes closed briefly when the amicable thrusts met a sweet spot but his nose placidly nudged her cheek; an action which caused her to open them again.

 

 

There was no moaning, there was no screaming and certainly no filthy rhetoric. Instead, the silence of the room was barely disturbed by a few benign gasps, some genial groans and the only slightly audible noise their lips made when they did eventually meet again.

 

So wrapped up in the utterly incredible sensations they created for each other; both Hux and Lucilla discovered themselves to be close to their respective edges. The couple panted lightly as one helped the other, their speed increased but only very slightly and it took nothing away from the good-natured way they received one another.

 

 

When it eventually happened, one watched the other’s post-orgasm expression and each felt a small flutter of something unexplainable as the last kiss was exchanged. He stayed in her but sank down onto his side of the bed and she moved with him to ensure the closeness continued, lying on their sides and facing each other.

 

 

Her eyes started to drift closed with her head resting against her General’s shoulder in complete bliss and satisfaction with his arms wrapped around her and their legs entangled. Hux, however, stared at the ceiling and wallowed in the delicious silence of exhaustion. Did he want to bring it up? Did he want to ruin it?

 

 

“What was your number?” Though he couldn’t see her face, her eyes had opened. There was no panic or dismay, merely confusion. Her head lifted and she regarded her General wordlessly for a moment.

 

 

“What was your number?” He felt the need to ask again though he was trying to keep the distress to a minimum after such a breakthrough. How could it not upset him though? The mere thought of his precious Lucilla, reduced to nothing more than a series of numbers like a common Stormtrooper?

 

 

 _“One zero four.”_ The answer was quiet and unreadable in expression though she was more confused as to what had made him ask about a number. Perhaps more had happened on Coruscant than just the acquiring of the skull.

 

 

“And what does that mean?”

 

 

_“It means I was the one hundredth and fourth girl brought to the compound.”_

 

 

"Is Lucilla your real name?

 

 

 _"Yes, I managed to remember it."_ That was something at least. Relief bubbled when he realized his little dove had something of herself after all. 

“What would have happened if I sent you back? Before I touched you?” The question was an uneasy one but he always seemed to come up with a new horrible question with an equally horrible answer whenever conversation strayed to her past life.

 

 

 _“They wouldn’t have believed me.”_ It almost sent a shiver up his spine. He regretted deeply how Lucilla had been deflowered but if there was anything worse, it was in a cantina with money thrown at her.

 

 

What could he say to that? There was no comfort to be offered only that she didn’t actually endure that fate. At least she’d had the (sort of) relief of privacy, a shower and a warm bed afterwards in reality. He doubted those things would have been afforded to her if she’d been plucked by a cantina stranger instead. The thought was too riling, he had to brush it aside.

 

 

“You were right in what you said earlier.” His grip on his companion had tightened protectively against the non-existent threat of a random cantina patron. “I am meant for better things. And I will strive to improve on everything I have and to attain those they tell me is impossible. There is only one thing I cannot bring any closer to perfection and that’s you, little dove.”

 

 

“We’re going to break those moulds, my darling. And they will watch.”

 

 

 


	18. Heaven Sent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General speaks frankly to the Admiral and takes an unusual course of action when a threat is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in updating.  
> Precious Cargo took longer than I thought it would!

_“The falcon and the dove sit there together, And th' one of them doth prune the other's feather.”_

_Michael Drayton_

 

 

He must have been exhausted. How could he not hear it? Lucilla turned over without opening her eyes but from the solid arm against her cheek, he was clearly still on his back. He wasn’t as restless as Lucilla during the night. If anything, he grounded himself so she had room to wiggle about.

 

 _“Darling.”_ The sleepy murmur was accompanied by her hand stretching across his chest in an attempt to rouse him. If she opened her eyes though, she would have seen he was already awake. _“Orion, darling, your com.”_

 

“I know, little dove.” He didn’t sound drowsy like she did nor did he bat an eyelid when his name was used, as if she had been using it all along. It was a revelation from the night previous as he kissed her to sleep. Hux’s back partially rested against the headboard, obviously torn. He must have been awake for some time.

 

“That’s the third time it’s buzzed.” Lucilla’s eyes finally opened and she blearily took in the time from the clock like device on the bedside table, it was some time before he was due at the bridge. In fact, he was perfectly entitled to still be asleep. “I was hoping it would stop before it woke you.”

 

 _“Why haven’t you answered it?”_ Her eyes were heavy and stinging from the sudden rude awakening though the light in the bedroom was low. Lucilla’s forehead rested against her General’s chest in a resignation of exhaustion and of course, his arm wound round her frail form. If it was important, he would never hesitate in answering it. If it was the bridge, he would be gone by now.

 

“It’s my father.” He responded quietly with an amicable kiss to her temple, the only patch of skin he could find with the way she had buried her head and the way her hair had fallen. Comfortable and all as she was and while returning to sleep was tempting, there was dread in his voice that she couldn’t ignore. “No doubt he wants to discuss the conversation I had with the Colonel.”

 

 _“Remember what I said to you last night.”_ Lucilla had lifted her head enough to look her master in the eye, he returned the curtesy. The dread in his voice remained and now it caressed his usually staunch and confident face. The com had fallen silent. _“You are destined for greater things than some banal marriage and retiring to the Academy for the rest of your life.”_

_“You will carve your own destiny and I’ll be there when you do. For each and every step. Everything you ask of me, I’ll do it. You already know that.”_ The dainty, ivory hand on Hux’s chest was enveloped ever so carefully in his larger and more calloused one. She would be there; he’d make sure of it.

 

In that support alone, the General found the strength to pick up the com when it buzzed again though Lucilla’s hand was still held when he did so. He would ensure she could hear everything; she had every right to hear what was being said about her. Though Lucilla was sensitive, Hux would ensure she believed none of it.

 

He kept his arm around her, holding her shoulder and the little female, stretched her hand across to hold his. His other hand was taken up with the selecting the loudspeaker function on the com device.

 

“Yes?”

 

**“Still in bed, General?”**

“Some of us do sleep, Admiral.” Lucilla’s face scrunched into slight confusion. _General? Admiral?_ _This was how they addressed each other?_ Regardless, her master’s hand was given a comforting squeeze; a much needed show of loyalty.

 

**“I assume you know the reason for this com?”**

“I would venture a guess that it has something to do with my refusal of the Colonel’s offer?”

 

**“Are you out of your mind? I gave you that skinny toy as a temporary distraction. Not a long term solution and CERTAINLY not as a substitute for a fruitful marriage. What of your standards?”**

“My standards are higher than they have ever been with thanks to you and your thoughtful gift, Admiral.” Hux felt Lucilla stifle a laugh beside him and pulled her even closer to his side with another kiss to her face.

 

“I don’t have the time or the patience for a ‘fruitful marriage’, Admiral. And why would I put myself under the Colonel’s thumb? Should I not have more pride and respect for myself than resigning to the will and good graces of a father in law so I might get a respectable position within the Academy?”

 

**“That vile creature has poisoned your mind! Where is she now?!”**

“She hasn’t. If anything, she has made me realize that I am destined for far greater things than just a General. Or gods forbid, a safe residency in the Academy with my father in law breathing down my neck. She is here in bed beside me, exactly where she is supposed to be. And might I remind you, Admiral; you chose her.”

 

 **“That is all she is good for and you know it!”** If it was possible that absolute rage and irritation in the Admiral’s voice climbed at his son’s insolence; something he’d never had before _her._ **“And what of your line?! Children are just going to magically appear, are they?! You know she can’t give you what you need!”**

“What I need is not what I want. And there is more to life than simply breeding.” The General countered calmly as he had done with Lucilla before when the match was initially mentioned. The com was held away from his face for a moment while he released a light sigh of impatience though he found this oddly satisfying. Especially when he looked down at Lucilla and found her enjoying it as well.

 

“Lucilla and I have not spoken about children, it is a sensitive topic but when it is a more pressing situation, then and only then will we discuss it. Your input is not required, Admiral.” The General rewarded himself with a brief inhale of Lucilla’s berry scented hair.

 

**“You _will_ be accepting the Colonel’s offer. You _will_ be marrying Alessa and you _will_ produce as you are supposed to! Think of your line, for goodness sake! Think of your legacy and your reputation, your name! Think of your future! There will be an unquestioned position for you in the Academy when you retire! You are mad to refuse it!”**

**“The funding for any project you apply for would be guaranteed to be granted and you’re throwing it away for a whore with Stockholm Syndrome!”** Hux’s nostrils flared. _How dare he?!_ **“Keep your tramp on Finalizer if you wish but fight this arrangement and I will not hesitate to waste fifty thousand units!”** _There was the answer to that question._

“Thank you for your concern and generosity, Admiral. But the fact of the matter is if you intended on backing a marriage, you should not have given me this wonderful _distraction._ I might have considered it once but now, I will not.”

 

“You will _not_ tell me what I will and will not do. You will _not_ tell me who I will and will not be marrying. And most of all, you will _not_ be expected to be included in such matters that do not affect you directly.”

 

“And Admiral?” The General’s tone darkened and Lucilla looked up again, almost worried. “Any hazard to Lucilla and her safety will be resolved with swift, brutal and deadly force. Who makes the threat is irrelevant but it will **not** be tolerated.”

 

**“Are you threatening me, General?”**

“Yes, I am. Any attempt by you or any of your solicited parties on my companion will be responded to by any number of officers and Stormtroopers. _That_ I will promise you. Or perhaps Starkiller will target the Arkanis system first? Now Admiral, I have absolutely no inclination to continue this conversation so if you will excuse me, Lucilla is waiting for me.”

 

**“General-!”**

The com cut off and was set back down onto the bedside table. Hux rolled over and both arms pulled his dark haired darling into his chest. He’d meant it. Every word. The bridge of the General’s nose was lined against his lover’s hairline; it was easier to press a kiss to her forehead that way.

 

“I will not be bullied.”

 

_“I know.”_

“I will not be dominated.”

 

_“I know.”_

“Not by him, not by anyone.”

 

 _“You made that perfectly clear to him. He would be a fool to test your patience.”_ Lucilla assured him as she gently rubbed her hand up and down his arm. There was silence for a few moments as they just laid there and appreciated each other. Even more so now with the provocation of his father, the threats and the implied severing of ties.

 

 _“I might not be able to give you everything you need.”_ The significantly younger of the two broke the silence but barely. _“But I will give you everything I can.”_

 

 

 

“Lucilla?” He was already an hour late for the bridge though his own Colonel would know to step in in his absence.

 

_“Mmm?”_

“I’ve been thinking…..”

 

_“You do a lot of that.”_

“I do. Since I became a General, I have had many hours of allocated personal time that are still pending-“

 

_“Why haven’t you taken them?”_

“Well, I was busy working, dedicating every waking moment to the rise of the First Order. To me, those hours were a waste of precious time. Now…. I believe I’ll take them.”

 

 _“You should. You deserve a break.”_ There was sleepy concern behind the observation. If Lucilla wasn’t there to moderate him, it was impossible to know what kind of state he might work himself into. The rest period would do him the power of good and only now did he seem to recognize it. If he had done it sooner, Starkiller might not have been such a daunting undertaking.

 

 _“And you can actually stay in bed with me.”_ She added with an affectionate snuggle to his bare chest. Those unforgettable blue eyes shifted upwards to his and his mind was made up. He would not risk the events of Starkiller again.

 

True, the relationship was completely different now and she had far more power now than she did then but still, he could be volatile when stressed. A break was precisely what he needed and a break with Lucilla was exactly what he would have.

 

“I will stay in bed with you.” Hux confirmed and laid a kiss laced with adoration to the space between those magnificent eyes. “But only if we don’t do it here.” That earned him a curious look which urged him to continue.

 

“If you allow me to take you somewhere. Anywhere but here. I think some fresh air might be exactly what we need. What do you think?” It wasn’t just about fresh air or waking up somewhere different. Ashamed as he was to admit it, his father’s threat had struck his core. He would prefer to get her off Finalizer for a few days, just until the apparent danger cleared.

 

 _“Where did you have in mind?”_ Lucilla asked with the same endearing curiosity after a moment of self-debate. Finalizer was her home but if it was only for a few days, what harm could it do? Of course, she would follow wherever he led her.

 

“I don’t know.” Her General confessed though Naboo jumped into his head every time he looked at her. The cascade of that waterfall matched the way her hair moved, her eyes looked as if they had just been lifted from the depths of the pond and the way she spoke was soft and playful like when the stream from above met the calm of the pool below.

 

“Have you ever been to Naboo?”

 

_“Only  a cantina in Theed.”_

“We won’t be going to any cantinas.”

 

_“But isn’t Naboo all cities?”_

“A decent portion of it, yes. But the rest of it is wild and remote. Where there would be no one for miles and it would just be the two of us. Alone. To do what we please.”

 

_“When do we leave?”_

 

 

In the year that Lucilla lived with General Hux, he had seen her display a variety of emotions. But he had never seen her speechless with awe. The presentation of the skull (which she had debated bringing with her) or when he returned to their quarters covered with blood had been a different kind of silence.

 

He’d found the waterfall. He had somehow remembered where to find it and it was exactly as he recalled. The purity of the water was the same; no doubt the temperature was perfect too. The surface seemed to glisten in the afternoon sun like liquefied sapphires, like to drink it would cleanse the very soul. He felt a tug at the memories from before, from when he was young and innocent and little mattered. It was somewhat painful, bittersweet.

 

The abundance of colour in the surrounding wildflowers remained true to his recollections; blue, pink, red, white, green and shades he couldn’t even begin to describe. They contrasted so brilliantly with the azure behind it that if he was not standing before it, he would have sworn it was not a real place; that it was taken straight from an artist’s imagination.

 

The warm, caressing breeze was the same as it had always been; it carried the sweet birdsong probably for miles. Comforting and welcoming, it promised to envelope and protect which was the assurance he craved. He needed no greater guarantee that this was the correct choice for his beloved companion.

 

Beautiful and all as their surroundings were, he found himself fascinated only with her reactions to every possible stimuli. Every flower, every bird, every spirited splash of the waterfall. Finalizer was home but this place spoke to her, whispered knowingly to her though she couldn’t understand what it said.

 

That delightful smile was immovable. It was like something from a dream… No, she didn’t think she could conjure something this exquisite in her subconscious or otherwise. Eyes wide and childlike, Lucilla took her first enthralled step down off the ramp. When the grass sprung slightly underfoot, there was a light gasp as she looked down, as if she had hurt something living.

 

But it was merely the change; going from the dead metal of everything on Finalizer to this expanse of green before her and the explosion of colour that met her eyes. To be among life, however passive it was, was almost incomprehensible to the little female who had spent the last year afloat in space and before that, confined to a dry compound and shepherded to and from dark cantinas.

 

 _“I have only read about places like this.”_ Lucilla managed to breathe through her absolute wonderment, her eyes gorging themselves on everything she could set them on. The scenery, the noises and the atmosphere were drunk in; even the air was spotlessly clean.

 

 _“How do you know about this place?”_ She inquired, still somewhat breathless from mesmerized shock, the very sound of it made her General’s heart flutter, even more so when she turned to him. Lucilla still held his hand from where he had helped her on the decline from the ramp. She would have run it if he’d allowed her but she was ever the lady.

 

“I used to come here with someone else I cherished very dearly.” Her awed gaze still flickered around in an attempt to take everything in but his words brought her back to look at him with a curious frown.

 

 _“You brought someone else here?”_ Cherished dearly? That was cutting. And he said it with such fondness! Lucilla’s hand was used to bring her back to him; in her stupor she had continued to walk when he had stopped. She landed in such a way that her chest pressed to his and her gaze automatically directed upwards to his.

 

“My mother, little dove.” It was quiet and patient, so much so that Lucilla felt a little prick of embarrassment and sorrow. It didn’t take much thought to realize she was no longer with him. It was the first time he had mentioned her and she had been _jealous_ , however temporarily.

 

 _“Darling, I’m so-“_ She was silenced when his forehead pressed to hers in a gesture of the utmost affection and devotion; one of the first signs of companionship he had learned to show. She leaned in to it as she always did. He had been raw then and stirring memories ensured he was raw now but there was no one he trusted more to guard him than his precious Lucilla.

 

“I know for a fact she would have adored you just as much as I do.” He was still quiet and his eyes had closed; the slight pressure of his forehead against her’s was a remarkable comfort, one of the things he had noticed when he explored it first. “I do miss her. But I think she sent you to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basing Hux's relationship with his mother (and probably with his father) on this fic. xxx
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/5832685/chapters/13441837
> 
> Hope you liked the name!!


	19. Everything You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux nudges Lucilla with his nose when he wants a kiss. A more serious talk is had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loosely inspired by the waterfall scene in The Lion King. :D Bonus points to whoever finds the Lion King reference! Hint: It’s from the same scene. ;)

_Sometimes, it's hard to find words to tell you how much you mean to me. A lot of times, I don't say anything at all. But I hope someday, you'll understand, having you is what I live for._

_“Are you just going to leave me in here by myself?”_ The tint of alluring innocence was almost enough to tempt him. It had nearly worked and he suspected she knew it. He sat on the bank still fully clothed with Lucilla’s dress in a bundle in his lap, just opting to watch the younger female who watched him in turn.

 

 

“I’m more than happy to just watch, little dove.” He responded with a smile tugging on the corner of his lip, something that didn’t escape her notice. If he joined her, he wouldn’t have the same vantage point from which to survey her slowed movements in the water, the stray droplets decorating her ivory skin and how her hair floated listlessly behind her.

 

 

 _“For the first time in your life.”_ She countered him teasingly which provoked a huff of laughter from the redheaded male; only she could elicit such responses. The shallow lagoon had been very slightly pricking to the body temperature at first but since she immersed herself, it was perfect.

 

 

“The view from here is far too pleasing to give up.” The top of her head was still mostly dry and the water seemed to ebb halfway up her chest though there were scatters of moisture up her neck and shoulders from when she meandered close to the waterfall.

 

 

 _“But surely feeling would be better?”_ Teasing wasn’t working so she decided to try inviting. With it he felt the familiar squirm only Lucilla gave him and he felt himself closer to giving in but still managed to hold his nerve.

 

 

“How often do I get to enjoy seeing you in such a way? And I’m not talking about the obvious, physical appeal.” There was a hint in the admission. “But I rarely see you so happy, little dove. So alive. I want to retain it for as long as I can to picture when you’re not with me.”

 

 

Lucilla broke the rigorously consistent eye contact with a casual shrug, seemingly giving up on trying to entice him into the water. Turning away, she took a few sauntering steps through the water. Some parts were slippery, others not so much but she took great care. However, when Lucilla stumbled, Hux was on his feet.

 

 

“Lucilla?!”

 

 

 _“Something bit me!”_ Looking through the water for the culprit, her General had never undressed so fast nor did he take the time or care to fold his uniform. It lay abandoned on the bank as he thrashed through the otherwise peaceful water and straight to his companion.

 

 

He gathered her guardingly to his chest where her arms encircled his neck almost automatically. He could see no blood nor could he see any strange fish-like creatures or any offending object that might have hurt her.

 

 

“What bit you?”

 

 

 _“Nothing. I just wanted to get you in here.”_ He knew Lucilla was clever but he didn’t think she was deviant. If this could be called deviance. Rolling his eyes in his obvious defeat, the significantly taller male leaned down and nudged his companion’s forehead with his nose through the new soft ripples and heaves of laughter.

 

 

She knew what that meant and she was more than happy to comply. With a few sweet strokes of amusement herself, Lucilla lifted her head to allow her lips to be claimed and of course, the action was returned with everything that had been given in it.

 

 

“I should appoint you to my strategy division.” It was his turn to tease when they parted ever so briefly. He brushed a hand through the raven locks with the utmost respect and affection before his lips pressed to hers again.

 

 

Don’t let anyone tell you kissing under a waterfall is romantic. The couple tried it; the pressure of the cascade was too much. They both ended up spluttering and dashing away from it as quickly as their wading pace would allow them; as you can imagine, it was extremely undignified and Lucilla’s hair weighed her down.

 

 

Paradise. Such a word can have many definitions depending on the user’s interpretation. A year previous, General Orion Hux did not have a definition for paradise. He disregarded the mere concept as a waste of time and an escape for the weak minded. To be anything other than regimented and callous was to be a burden, an idea he truly believed.

 

 

Lucilla was neither of those things. A year later, that entire way of thinking had been overhauled. When those foreign feelings for another person had started to creep in, he had been confused. When she expressed worry and care for his wellbeing, he had lashed out. When she was weak and defenceless as a result, he had tried and, by some miracle, been successful. However, he knew that it was not everyone would have been so forgiving with such behaviour.

 

 

As he held her in the acclimatized warmth of the natural pool, both arms wrapped around her and his cheek resting against the top of her head; the nakedness of both didn’t seem to matter like it would have before. This was far purer. That, Hux decided, was his definition of paradise. Eyes closed and breathing deep, he could never recall being so vulnerable.

 

 

This vulnerability would not leave Naboo. As much as he adored Lucilla and had no qualms sharing this with her, he could not afford to be seen this way. Not by his officers, not by his staff and certainly not by any of those who opposed the Order. That was probably an unconscious motive for coming here; to be with Lucilla as he should be without the confines of their quarters.

 

 

“It’s getting dark.” He hummed in her ear; the observation was obvious from the little fireflies starting to gather around the lagoon in the sweet caress of twilight. Her fascination resumed when one of the insects got close; they didn’t seem to fear the humans. “We should get dried and rest. The com this morning was trying for both of us.”

 

 

 _“Ready when you are.”_ Lucilla was happy to do as her General did. She reckoned if she stayed in the water any longer, she would start to get pruney which would hardly be comfortable. She brushed a pale hand through his fiery strands though her eyes were closed in pure relaxation. The water was starting to cool around them.

 

 

The evening times on Naboo, especially around _their_ waterfall were breath-taking. With no unnatural light, the billions of stars overhead and the two moons gave them all the light they needed. Not to mention the little fireflies they had become accustomed to and fond of. The air was warm and the grass beside the gentle splashes of the waterfall was as close to velvet as nature could produce.

 

 

Showered and dried, Hux had never had to wait for Lucilla to dry her hair (that was usually done while he was on the bridge) but when she finally joined him outside on the grass and collapsed into his open arms, it was more than worth it. The scent of berries was at its strongest with the fresh shampooing and they seemed to just melt into each other.

 

 

There had been no disturbances, human or animal. However, when the little pool started to glow, Lucilla sat up in curiosity and peered into it. To her captivated surprise, several small little fish had appeared, seemingly from the cracks in the bank. Fascinated, she watched and jumped with exclamation when the fish jumped, snatching the fireflies from just above the water’s surface.

 

 

 _“Will the bed be big enough for the two of us?”_ She asked as she sat back into her master’s arms, her cheek resting just below his collarbone as she continued to watch the fish leap into the air; sometimes grabbing a meal, sometimes not. _“It seems quite small.”_

 

“I quite like the smaller bed.” Hux confessed with his companion cuddled close to his chest. “Though I fear injury during the night when you kick about like you usually do.” They honeyed giggle from the smaller female infected him with a chuckle of his own; the smaller bed would ensure closeness though they usually woke entangled anyway.

 

 

 _“I don’t kick about!”_ Lucilla protested, jokingly offended and scrunching up her face at the random kiss he pushed to it. _“I’ll have you know I’m an incredibly still sleeper! At least I don’t snore!”_

“You do kick about and I do not snore.” Came the contented mumble as he tucked her tighter to his chest. He was calmer than her and matter of fact but no less playful than she was. “I would know if I snore, little dove.”

 

 

_“Sometimes you do. And you wouldn’t know because it’s impossible to wake you.”_

“Is that so? Such as when? I am a light sleeper; I wager it is not possible for me to sleep through a waking attempt!”

 

 

 _“After Whyren’s. And yes, it is so! I cannot wake you after whiskey!”_ The light-heartedness of the conversation and its content was somewhat uncharacteristic for the General. His sleeping patterns and habits were a tiny detail that he would never have discussed with anyone, barely his medical staff. And yet, he joked about it with Lucilla.

 

“How observant of you!” He chortled and rolled over, sandwiching her between him and the springing grass to a delighted squeal from beneath. He didn’t do anything. Just gazed at her. In all the beautiful wonderment they had taken in during the day and now, she was his favourite.

 

 

 _“Are you just going to stare at me?”_ She asked with her eyebrow kinked as though trying to provoke him into action and her smile immovable. This place truly had brought out the best in them; him especially. _“Or are you going to do something?”_

“Possibly.” He answered quietly with the proximity of her face to his. He didn’t have to go very far for his lips to find hers. Slow and almost agonizing, it was reciprocated like any lover would. “Although I would be perfectly justified if I did decide to simply stare at you.”

 

 

 _“Oh?”_ The eyebrow remained kinked while she waited for a satisfactory answer. He didn’t really have one. He _would_ have been content to just stare at her. There were several other options he could explore. He could continue to just lie there with her, he could kiss her or he could make love to her to name but a few. _“And why might that be?”_

“Because I am surrounded by natural beauty.” Hux answered after a moment’s deliberation, still holding his little dove to the ground with his forehead now pressed against hers. “But by far, the most beautiful thing here is beneath me. Why would I not stare?”

 

 

Lucilla’s hand cupped the face hovering only a few centimetres from her’s with the utmost affection and devotion. His cheek was stroked amicably with her thumb and the concept of paradise reoccurred to him. He didn’t need to be here to have it. He just needed her. The beautiful setting, the tranquillity, the forgotten responsibilities; it all meant nothing. It was all about her.

 

 

 _“Are you going to prove to me that the bed is big enough for the two of us?”_ Lucilla asked, captivating as usual. _“Because if it isn’t, you’re sleeping in the pilot’s console.”_ He took it as a challenge. His dark haired darling’s glee from a few moments earlier resumed when he swept her up into his arms; one arm supporting her neck and the other under her knees.

 

 

Three times. It took three times before Lucilla couldn’t take anymore. Panting, exhausted and spent; the worn out female crumbled for the umpteenth time onto her lover’s chest where immediately she was grabbed and held. He always behaved as if someone was about to kick in the door and steal her from him. She seemed to even be too weak to return the kiss he gave her.

 

 

With the bed well and truly soiled (and only on their first night), it appeared that night was a success. Not that he had brought her there for that. She had declared once or twice before that she was too tired or that she didn’t feel well and he had respected it; he would have done the same on Naboo. He didn’t have time to ask if the bed was big enough; she was already fast.

 

 

Hux stretched out (or at least as much as his confines would allow him) and felt around. The bed was empty. Sitting up as had become a habit on Crucival, he waited. As he did, he could hear her. Curiosity got the better of the General and he left the bed and padded to the source of the faint noise; it was coming from the refresher.

 

 

“Lucilla? Lucilla, are you alright?”

 

 _“I’m fine. Go back to bed.”_ Not bloody likely. Her answer was choked and breathy with several coughs thrown in. She wasn’t fine.

 

“Lucilla, open the door.”

 

_“No.”_

“Lucilla, open the door.” His patience was beginning to wane.

 

_“I said I’m fine!”_

“Lucilla, open the door or I’ll override the panel.” That worked. Supported against the sink by both arms, she was paler than usual with the tell-tale trails of melancholy on her cheeks. She didn’t look up when the door opened and yet, he couldn’t tear his eyes from her.

 

“Darling, what’s wrong?”

 

_“Nothing. I said I’m fine.”_

“Lucilla.” He was firmer now with his arms folded over his chest and his gaze unwavering. “You know we don’t lie to each other. What is it?” He wasn’t sure if he was prepared for the answer. Of all the things it could have been, he didn’t expect it but probably should have.

 

 _“I keep thinking about what he said.”_ Lucilla broke down into fresh tears when she finally voiced it. Attempting to keep her voice steady was futile but she tried anyway as she recalled the conversation of the morning previous on the com.

 

“Little dove, you know I wouldn’t let him harm you. Not in a million years, not for-“

 

 _“I’m not talking about that.”_ Truly, the threat against her wasn’t the reason for her current state. Well, not the immediate threat of his father. _“He’s right! I can’t give you what you need! I will never be able to! And I dread the day when you realize it and you won’t want me anymore!”_

Slightly dumbfounded, Hux elbowed his way into the restricted space and Lucilla’s silk clad form was gripped tight to him. If he knew these kinds of doubts were bubbling, he would have taken extra precautions to assure her. One large hand rubbed her back while the other held her waist and a kiss was pressed to the side of her head. He tried to ignore the quakes of her chest against his but it wasn’t so easy.

 

“Little dove, listen to me. Listen to what I’m about to say.” Her wracking sobs died away to mere whimpers so he assumed he had her attention. His hold was maintained and his voice was low, right by her ear. “You. Are. My. Everything. You are everything to me. Not Finalizer. Not Starkiller. Not the First Order and certainly not my father. Without you, Lucilla, there is nothing.”

 

“What you can’t give me doesn’t matter; you give me more than enough, I thought you knew that? You haven’t failed me in any way.” Her eyes still leaked onto the bare flesh of his chest, but he pressed on. “Little dove, a line is not the be- all and end-all of everything. It’s not your fault you don’t have a womb, no one would ever suggest such a thing. It’s just not to be, my empress.”

 

 _“But…. Don’t you want children?”_ His answer was a terrible silence and she lifted her head from his chest to greet it. She knew. They both knew. Of course he wanted children. Romantic notions aside, he still had the bred-in desire to pass on his name and his accomplishments. But if he could only have one or the other…. Lucilla won every time.

 

“Before, yes. They probably would have come from a loveless marriage as mere insurance policies; bearers of a name and a legacy. But now…. Now that is not important. I am capable of making and carrying my own legacy; it doesn’t need to be passed on and inhabited.” That may have only been a partial truth.

 

 _“You still do, I can hear it in you. What happened to not lying to each other?”_ Lucilla shook her head and tried to pull away but his grip was relentless. When she realized he wasn’t about to release her, she sank back into him. _“I do. I want them too. More than anything. I want yours.”_

“This is what is going to happen.” Hux was decisive. “The moment we return to Finalizer, every ounce of energy I have and every resource at my disposal will be dedicated to finding our solution. And it will be _our_ solution. I promise you this, little dove. I promise you will have everything you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised! The first chapter of little Lucilla's story!
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/6813685


	20. Steps Forwards and Steps Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux silently considers parenthood and assures Lucilla that their solution is about them and not his father.  
> When they return to Finalizer, tests begin to see if their solution is viable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after the first 800 words or so, I was drugged off my face from dental surgery. Enjoy. xD

_“Love cures people — both the ones who give it and the ones who receive it.” ~ Karl A. Menninger_

 

 

Hux lay in bed and poured over the solution he promised his beloved Lucilla. As the main figurehead of both Finalizer and Starkiller with unquestioned loyalty both on and off those vessels, he had absolutely every resource at his disposal with the funds to back them. There were other implications as well as that.

 

Of course, he would renounce his father. He couldn’t abide by someone threatening his companion and he knew it wouldn’t stop at Lucilla. If their solution was successful and Lucilla became pregnant, his father would no doubt find out. More to the point; he would not tolerate anyone, let alone his father, threatening his new family. That unborn child would be a target but it would also be the most precious thing to Lucilla and that was what mattered.

 

The General looked to his left where the beginning of his future line lay. He had managed to coax her from the bathroom and back into bed. There had been nothing else for her to say as such. It was out in the open now what they both wanted and he would strive to give it to her. He held her and comforted her until she fell asleep and had since eased back a little to give her space but his arm still stayed around her shoulder.

 

He still doubted his own ability as a father. He knew nothing about bottles or nappies or babies in general. He knew they were noisy, delicate, ate often and sometimes had an unpleasant odour. Beyond that, he was ignorant. However, if Lucilla craved a child; there must have been something more to it. He (barely) remembered how his mother had doted on him before she died and he had absolutely no uncertainty that Lucilla would be exactly the same.

 

With that in mind, he would, of course, strive to be a better man than his father. He would attempt to be more involved with his children than Hux Senior had been; then again, that wouldn’t have been difficult. Orion had been little more than the insurance policy that Lucilla had mentioned before. His own father probably expected his grandchildren to be the same. But timid and all as his Lucilla was, he knew she wouldn’t allow such bullying.

 

When his little dove shifted in her sleep and a blissful sigh disturbed the silence around them, he watched her for a moment and stroked her arm ever so gently as a reassurance even in the depths of her slumber. He’d made her a promise and he would be hell bent on keeping it if it killed him. She had done so much for him, how could he not?

 

He couldn’t pinpoint from where in the relationship that he knew he couldn’t be apart from Lucilla. Maybe it was the few torturous days he had spent on Crucival without her and judging by her reaction upon his return, those days had been just as difficult for her. He would strive in the endeavour of keeping his promise and usually when he set his mind to something, he was usually successful.

 

But even if he couldn’t, he decided he did want to marry her regardless and it was nothing to do with legitimacy of any children they might have. Where would he find another like her? The simple truth of it was he wouldn’t. Whether she ended up a slave or a free woman, there was no way Lucilla would have been able to be anything but how she was now; sweet, kind, gentle, docile. And he adored her beyond belief for it.

 

But what would she say? He gazed at her and tried to imagine her face when the concept would be put to her. He couldn’t imagine her saying no even with the extensive age gap and that their relationship had begun as master and (pleasure) slave. Would she remember when he kicked her awake on her first morning on Finalizer? Would she remember the horrendous circumstances under which she had lost her virginity? What about when he left her with a black eye and a split lip on Starkiller? Not to mention Kylo Ren….

 

The more he thought about it, the more his heart sank. He didn’t deserve her and there was no maybe about it. Nevertheless, he would try. How though? What would he do? How would he do it? How does one ask someone who wields more power than they realize to be theirs forever? To be joined officially, despite the scandal it would probably cause for his father in the Academy? That was a good enough reason if none other.

 

Should he wake her and ask her now? _No!_ He scolded himself internally and unable to remove his eyes from her peaceful form. _She deserves better! Wait and plan it properly! Make it something she will never forget!_ And he would do just that. For now, he would betray nothing of his intentions. He would give himself plenty of time to concoct something she truly deserved which was plenty. But he was no good at these things.

 

Before his mother died, he remembered observing his parent’s marriage though there wasn’t much to observe. He recalled little details from when she was alive that he had missed at the time. His mother was a beautiful woman and significantly younger than his father yet he had little interest in her. She was a means to an end and that end was Orion. She had been taken from her family and shipped to Arkanis to be bred; she had one single purpose and that was to be a mother to the Commandant’s sons.

 

Who knows what would have happened if she’d produced daughters. He didn’t see his father very often before he moved to the Academy (against his wishes) but when he did, he assumed the disdain and the eye-rolling whenever she opened her mouth was normal. From his surveyed experience, marriage wasn’t supposed to be enjoyable and it certainly held no other purpose than procreation. And yet, even if she stayed barren, he wanted her joined to him. To make it his life’s mission to make her happy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I hope I didn’t wake you, Lieutenant?”

 

 **“No, sir.”** Hux knew better from Mitaka’s strained voice on the com; he hadn’t even taken notice of the time. The General paced the grass outside the shuttle, unwilling to take the chance of being overheard by Lucilla. The fireflies still hummed through the darkness and providing him with enough light to watch his step since the sky had clouded over.

 

“In the morning, pass over your duties to Thanisson. I’m sending you back to Coruscant, I’ve had an idea of which I’ll text com you the details.”

 

**“Yes, sir.”**

 

“I also require a meeting with the medical staff when Lucilla and I return to Finalizer in a few days time. Go back to sleep, Lieutenant.”

 

**“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”**

* * *

 

Noise woke the couple simultaneously the next morning. Immediately, the General sat up, pulling on his trousers and making a grab for his blaster but a pale hand stopped him. He allowed himself to be pulled back into the tangle of blankets and his companion’s arms with confusion.

 

 _“I thought if anyone knew rain, it would be you.”_ She teased him with sleepy amusement and when he looked, the tiny windows were indeed spattered with the little drops he hadn’t seen since he left Arkanis. The metal of the shuttle pinged relentlessly with seemingly every individual teardrop and only intensified when the storm strengthened.

 

“Forgive me if I get a little defensive.” Her General murmured as he settled fully beside her and slowly started to inch her into his arms. Naturally, she didn’t protest and went willingly. She even went so far as to drape her leg across his waist. “But I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you.”

 

 _“I’m not going to drown in the rain in here.”_ She assured him gently with a comforting hand laid on his chest; out of habit, he took it within his own and kissed it. _“And nothing is going to happen to me with you watching over me. Besides, you know what this means._ ”

 

“Do I, little dove?”

 

_“Mmm. It means we get to spend all day in bed.”_

 

Her statement was finished with a soft giggle that was flattened into a quiet moan when her General’s lips met hers for the first time that morning.

 

“Is the bed big enough?” He asked quietly when the lingering kiss died away though he remained close enough to revive it if he felt the need; chances were he would. He always did.

 

 _“Too big.”_ Lucilla responded with sweet tones of impish sullenness. _“I do like to be close to you. Did I kick about? As you oh so eloquently put it yesterday?”_

“You did not.” Her master confirmed as he amicably stroked the silk of her jawline with a single thumb; it was these small gestures of affection that had taken him longer to learn but certainly enhanced the relationship. They might even help him illustrate his feelings to Lucilla without actually saying the words, an exercise that unnerved him. “Did I snore?”

 

 _“You did not.”_ She replied in more or less the same fashion as he had which still resonated playfulness. _“But you did not have whiskey last night so I wasn’t expecting you to.”_ Lucilla paused and allowed her tender smile to falter somewhat; it hinted a change in the tone of the conversation. _“I’m sorry about last night. I just got…. Overwhelmed. I think more than I should about these things and it was still fresh in my mind.”_

“An appointment has already been made with the medical staff on Finalizer.” He assured her; unable to ignore the little twinge of heartbreak he saw when he looked at her on this particular topic. “We’ll discuss options with them but the ideal situation is a biological child of both of ours. Correct?”

 

 _“Yes but I want to carry it.”_ To Lucilla, a surrogate was a second last resort. If there was nothing left of her ovaries and the child could not be biologically her’s….. That was a devastating last resort but she would take it nonetheless. Those incredible blue eyes heightened to his icier ones and while she knew she was asking the almost impossible, the ache was too sharp to ignore. She knew he’d try.

 

“I’ll do my best, little dove. We both will. I’ll make you a mother, no cost or effort will be spared; I promise you that. They’ll be striking; our children. Our daughters will be stunning like their mother and our sons will be magnificent like their father-“

 

 _“I don’t know about magnificent.”_ The light-hearted comment stopped him in his tracks and naturally, he took it in the joking fashion it was intended. It seemed the conversation had become too forebodingly serious for her. A slight pressure from the heaving of his chest with small huffs of laughter reassured her he hadn’t taken it to heart.

 

“Well, I do.” He countered as his beloved companion was pulled up onto his chest where she watched him flirtatiously from beneath lowered butterfly lashes. He gazed back at her with a comfortable grimace of a smile and was reminded of paradise all over again though to look out the window, their surroundings were almost recognizable. “Imagine my father seeing you with a bump. Think of how it would grate at him; that is the ultimate revenge, little dove.”

 

 _“I hope that’s not the only thing driving you to our solution.”_ Came the borderline unimpressed retort with an arched eyebrow but it was quickly replaced with adoration when he kissed her again; long and passionate.

 

“No, my empress.” He was resolute and purposeful in both his kisses (which he stole at regular intervals as he spoke) and his affirmations. “You are. Only you. You and the little ones that will be ours and ours alone. This I promise you faithfully.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Instead of returning to Finalizer (and therefore, normality) with heavy hearts a few days later, the couple left the planet that would forever be _their_ haven. The past few days had consisted of swimming, eating and making love on and off the shuttle. His personal favourite was when it happened on the bank of the pool. Her hand rested on his on the rebound trip; a silent gesture of encouragement, devotion and excitement for the new journey ahead.

 

Lucilla was escorted back to their quarters and while he would have preferred some post-Naboo time with her, his duties called to him already. On the bridge, Mitaka passed him a data-stick with a subtle nod which the General returned in an almost business like fashion. He would reward Mitaka with more than just time off for this; this little stick was essential.

 

The next day, Lucilla was brought to the medical bay with her arm possessively (as usual) in her master’s with her hooded cloak; it seemed old habits died hard with her General. When they arrived, the medical team was waiting and spoke carefully (under Hux’s watchful eye) to her and explained simply the tests that would be conducted and if there were any questions she needed to ask. There weren’t, she was comfortable enough.

 

He had sworn he would stay with her while the tests were being conducted and for the most part he was successful. He held her hand over the side of her med bay bed and encouraged her to squeeze it when pain was involved. However, when the tests were about three quarters complete, Mitaka caught his attention from the other end of the ward through the glass.

 

“I’ll be right back.” He promised with a warm kiss to the top of her head before striding towards the Lieutenant. “What is it?” He asked with little patience of the man who looked more on edge than before.

 

“Sir.” The Lieutenant began nervously as if the incident was his fault. “Kylo Ren has returned from Jakku. A Resistance pilot has been apprehended and is being prepped for interrogation.”


	21. Security Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General interviews the pilot while waiting on Lucilla's test results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing has been taking a back seat to all the good weather here in Ireland but apparently the rain is coming back so I should be more regular with chapters! Chapter five of Precious Cargo is next!

_My lover's got humour_

_She's the giggle at a funeral_

_Knows everybody's disapproval_

_I should've worshipped her sooner_

_If the heavens ever did speak_

_She's the last true mouthpiece_

 

 

 

“I’ll attend to it.” The General resigned himself but first, he must reassure Lucilla. “Darling.” Those unique blue eyes heightened as her master’s regimented footsteps re-approached her bed. Her hand was taken and a lasting kiss was pressed to his stunning companion’s forehead. “I’m so sorry, little dove, but a pilot has been taken from Jakku and needs to be interviewed.” A mild term if the General ever used one. “Someone will escort you back to our quarters when the tests are complete and I want you to rest when you get there. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”

 

Lucilla’s lips were claimed ever so briefly and a short (if disappointed) nod accepted what he told her. She gave his hand one last squeeze then watched him go, hesitant to continue with the tests without him supportively at her side. The medics exchanged glances but said nothing. The General was known (on and off Finalizer) for being staunch, cold and almost wooden when it came to emotions. And yet; he worried, he held her hand and kissed her, encouraged her. On those occasions, his strict demeanour slipped; much to the surprise of the medical staff.

 

The Lieutenant had described her as the General’s ‘companion’. They had known what that meant: She was a bed warmer, a pleasure object. So when the med team were requested to meet with the General and his pet, they assumed it was a termination the General would be set upon. After all, why would he want a child interfering with a sterile relationship that a master and his slave often had? Nothing could have prepared the team for when they were literally requested to do the opposite. And with loyalty to the First Order and therefore their General, the doctors and nurses of Finalizer went about finding a solution.

 

The last time General Hux and Kylo Ren had spoken (if one could call it that) was the honorary bloodbath that had occurred in Training Room B in Lucilla’s name. They had fought for her ownership (not that the gentle female knew that); Hux had fought to keep her while Ren fought to take her. Fortunately for her, her original master had won to continue to dote on and spoil her; to keep her and later (hopefully) breed her.  Why wouldn’t he? She was perfect in every way. At least her General’s intentions were purer than Kylo Ren’s who only saw fit to use her for his own completion.

 

Hux hadn’t forgotten it and the mere thought of working closely with him now turned his stomach with rage and disgust. With Lieutenant Mitaka at his side, Hux strode with his usual confidence but with an irritated edge of having to deal with Ren again. The pair made their way in silence to the detention level; Mitaka knew where the prisoner was being kept but Hux would have known regardless. After all, he was the one who had drawn up the prisoner protocol. Not that Kylo Ren adhered to protocol of any description.

 

They say that to be ignorant of time can be both a blessing and a curse, torture and bliss. It very much depends on the situation. In the detention level of Finalizer, it was agony. The lack of clocks, the stony silence (save for the clattering of Stormtrooper armour at semi-regular intervals), the bleak metallic of the cells and the windowless walls all combined to ensure that a prisoner was as oppressed as possible before interrogation. Rather than face the cell again, they might opt to be cooperative.

 

A red light outside the sliding door to the detention level flashed to green upon recognizing the cylinders in Mitaka’s uniform. Those cylinders dictated his access to restricted zones on Finalizer; a privilege not afforded to every officer. General Hux needed no such recognition, the doors opened automatically to admit the head of the flagship. They walked for some time down the illuminated centre platform lined with (mostly empty) cells; Ren must have gained access from the other side and this suspicion was confirmed when the black robed figure and several Stormtroopers came into view waiting by the bottom cells.

 

“This had best be important, Ren!” Hux barked as they neared the Commander and automatically, Mitaka tensed. The Lieutenant’s fear of Kylo Ren was not unwarranted. He trusted his general completely and now admired him even more for his fearless approach of the Knight. “You seem to have a gift for interrupting my time with Lucilla!” Of course, the companion was only mentioned to get in under Ren’s skin; not that the General would be able to see if he was successful or not with the great and powerful Kylo Ren hiding behind his mask.

 

If there was a tell-tale sign, it was the clenching of Ren’s fist with a faint squeak of his leather gloves with the intensity that he forced his hands closed. That may have also been a reaction to the General’s challenge of the legitimacy of his haul. Ren’s hand twitched towards his saber but stopped himself; he would prove he was better than Hux marked him to be. Especially since being beaten to a bloody pulp over the fragile female that the Knight still thought incessantly about.

 

“Protocol dictates you speak to him first.” Even the modulator couldn’t keep out the bitterness the taller male didn’t bother to bite back. Hux cast him an impatient, pained glance as if disappointed by his willingness to comply with the specified code of prisoner internment and processing. It may have also just been Ren’s presence that disdained him.

 

“And what is it I am supposed to be finding out?” The redhead retaliated haughtily, his greatcoat was loose one his shoulders and catching the draft his disciplined march stirred and settled once he’d come to a complete stop. “The map?”

 

“The old man gave it to him.” Ren insisted through gritted teeth and that too was audible through the helmet. “However, a search of his person proved fruitless.”

 

“What makes you think he had it?”

 

“He did not have time to protect his mind, I could see that much. As to where it went, I wish to discover that answer. If you can’t provide that information, I will use more intense methods-“

 

“The Force.”

 

“I will storm his mind. If he’s willing to relinquish the information to you, I won’t need to exert it and he might prove to be more than we initially thought. He could be a key to finding their base, undercover operatives and the like.”

 

“And why would he hand over information like that? He was on Jakku for a reason! He is obviously a trusted agent, Organa isn’t going to send someone she can’t trust! Especially if the cargo is of the importance that you claim it is!”

 

“By questioning its importance, you question the Supreme Leader’s judgement.”

 

“Don’t be so petty, Ren! I’m amazed you were even able to follow the guidelines for prisoner transport and containment since you seem to disregard everything else around here!” Hux finished his rant with an ill-tempered snort and swatted over his shoulder for two Stormtroopers to follow him into the cell.  Light was purposely but fixably scarce in the standard ten foot by ten foot cell  but in the corner, Hux could make out the form sitting against the wall.

 

“Light: Full.” The General barked at nothing but it had an impact on something. The light flickered onto full as commanded and Hux’s nostrils flared but it was the only reaction he would allow himself as his eyes struggled to adjust. He wasn’t the only one. He could see the other form fully now and he too struggled with the sudden light but his reactions were not as restrained as the redhead. Immediately, Hux started to process him. Male. Approximately thirty to thirty three years of age, dark hair, olive skin and of medium height. This man, the pilot, held his cuffed hands up in an attempt to block the sudden burst of light from assaulting him further.

 

The General took stock of his condition; his wounds were not life threatening nor were they concerning for the moment though the pilot would probably disagree. Hux ignored the panting and occasional groan as the injured male tried to shift his position and speed up his eyes’ acclimatization to the light in the cell. He was not in distress, merely physical discomfort. It wouldn’t be long before Hux grew tired and impatient and so he drew himself up to his full height and moved further into the cell; slowly so his greatcoat caught as little draft as possible.

 

“I hear you’re a Resistance pilot.” Hux was smooth but dangerous as if daring the pilot to test him. It seemed the other man’s eyes had adjusted when he lowered his hands and heightened his brown gaze to the redhead before him.

 

“The best!” The younger(?) man chirped confidently back without an ounce of fear. Maybe it would be better to let Ren deal with him. He’s vain and passionate; he would reveal nothing without a fight or a nudge in the right direction. They had nothing to threaten him with since the location of the base was still a mystery and if his life was in danger, he seemed like the type to gladly lay it down out of loyalty.

 

“You were in possession of a map, a charter of great interest to the First Order.” The General didn’t betray his disdain for this map and the efforts being spent to retrieve it. After all, he was a military man, the Jedi were Kylo Ren’s concern. If Luke Skywalker even existed. But if the Supreme Leader commanded it…. “Where is it?” Naturally, Hux expected to be met with resistance and defiance but he hadn’t accounted for the blasé attitude of the pilot.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” The dark haired male replied casually and without qualm as he leaned forward to see the redhead better. Yes, he’d heard of the young General, advanced far beyond his years. “Haven’t seen a map.” Technically that was true. Poe had taken in good faith that the map was indeed what Lor San Takka had given him on the data stick though he hadn’t actually seen it himself. Hux took in the split lip, the cut under the eye and the ineffective wound on the pilot’s left temple as the arrogance spewed.

 

“I think you’re lying.” Hux relayed coolly as the pilot leaned back slowly against the wall but keeping his eyes on his captor; he hadn’t expected to be believed. “I would suggest, for your own sake, that you cooperate. I am far more understanding than my colleague and I can guarantee his patience is not as thick as mine.”

 

“I’ll take my chances.” The darker skinned of the two answered certainly but probably unwisely. He was over-confident and Ren could be unpredictable. It wouldn’t be beyond the realms of possibility for the Knight to kill the pilot when he was finished. Again, the General nodded to the Stormtroopers who took it as their cue to step past their superiour and seize the pilot. But not before one raised their blaster and knocked the butt of it into his face to render the pilot unconscious and add to his injuries.

 

“Interrogation room four.” Hux told them carelessly and stepped aside before following them out of the cell with each of the pilot’s arms held and his legs dragging behind. The redhead kept behind them all the way out into the corridor where Kylo Ren was waiting. The black-encased figure fell into step beside the General and even though the walk to the interrogation rooms was short, it would be tense.

 

“You take her away for four days and when you return, she goes to the med bay. What did you do to her?” Hux almost didn’t believe his ears. He kept his stride behind the escorted prisoner but bristled indignantly at Ren’s interference.

 

 _“What did **I** do to her?!”_ The General hissed while the taller male remained unperturbed by the nerve he’d touched. _“How dare you?! I did nothing to her; if anyone damaged her, it was you! Lucilla is and never was your concern, Ren! I don’t believe this! You counted the days we were away?! And how did you know she was in the med bay?!”_

 

“I tune into her on occasion.” The Knight’s nonchalance burrowed deep under the General’s skin. What else did Ren know?! Did he know when they were intimate?! Did he know of their plans to have children?! Ren knowing more than he needed to fuelled the fire of hatred and indignation that flared within Hux’s chest, specifically where his Lucilla was involved. “Found her in the med bay earlier on today but I couldn’t see why.”

 

Hux didn’t have time to reply. They had arrived at the interrogation room and Kylo Ren swept into the new cell after the Stormtroopers and the unconscious pilot. The General waited. He could scarcely hear what was going on behind the door but no doubt Ren was working his way through the pilot’s brain. Whether or not the Resistance fighter would be able to function after the ‘interrogation’ would be another question. Thankfully, Hux had never been on the receiving end of such a probing. It wasn’t long before the cell door lifted with a whoosh and Kylo Ren left the room with a bleeding and once more comatosed pilot in his wake.

 

“It’s in a droid. A BB unit.” The information was tossed thoughtlessly as if shifting the responsibility but the General took it as an opportunity. If he found the droid, it would certainly work in his favour with the Supreme Leader while Ren would be seen as lax. Anything he could do to have his unorthodox family accepted, he would do and Snoke’s support would be exceptionally useful to have.

 

“Well then. If it’s on Jakku, we’ll soon have it.” Hux conceded with a small smirk but it faltered a little when he realized the undertaking. However, if he knew what was about to happen, he would have been far more worried.

 

“I leave that to you.”

 

Two hours had passed since he left Lucilla in the med bay and with the pilot in recovery and returned to his cell, he was eager to see her. When the General entered their quarters, the living area was empty. She had dutifully obeyed him when he found her asleep. He edged himself a small patch on the bed beside her and watched the peace in her face with utter adoration; it was almost a crime to wake her. But he needed to know. A bare hand stretched to the back of his companion’s head and started to stroke her hair ever so gently until those remarkable eyes slowly flickered open.

 

 _“You’re back.”_ The beautiful breath was like something otherworldly, like a ploy to lure a man to his death but as a promise of something sweet. Lucilla’s lips were claimed while the sleep still drained from her system.

 

“I needed to see you.” He told her quietly and the little edge in his tone only proved it to her. Her face was cradled and her cheek was stroked; he was almost afraid to ask about the remainder of the tests. But this was part of his promise. “What of the tests? What about results? When will we know?” Lucilla sat up in the bed, the white silk caressing her barely darker skin should have been a clue if he was paying attention to such a thing. He watched her with borderline fear but her darling smile was a reassurance.

 

 _“I’m compatible.”_ The answer he’d craved. His relief and awe was taken in and that immovable smile glowed like it never had before. _“Everything is perfect. I still have my ovaries and everything else I need. They’re starting a search for a donor and after that, the procedure can be done right away.”_ His lips found her’s again and the gesture was returned with the deepest affection and devotion but Hux would never admit the way his heart beat wildly in his chest; both with joy and a touch of apprehension. Lucilla lifted her lips from her General’s but only just.

 

 _“There will be a settling period of a year after the procedure is complete.”_ Lucilla observed her lover from beneath lowered lashes, almost shy. _“After that, we are free to try but I will need to see a medic every week.”_

“Whatever it takes.” He murmured reverently; speaking for the first time since she broke the wonderful news. He found himself almost hoarse with elation as he carefully placed his forehead to her’s like she had suddenly become more delicate than she already was. “I’ll speak with the medical staff; see if there are any alterations that should be made to your diet.” Hux took a breath, his eyes closed in gratitude; to who or what, he didn’t know. “Little dove, promise me you’ll be patient. The resting period is there for a reason; for that year, we’ll use contraception. We don’t want something to happen prematurely that might end in heartbreak. We adhere to everything the medics say.”

 

 _“You’re a father already.”_ His dark haired darling observed soothingly, his cue to open his eyes and search for her’s; he found them without too much effort. _“We’ll do as they say, I promise. Our children are more important.”_ Lucilla lay back down in bed and the mere incline of her head was enough for him to disregard his duties for a moment and lay down beside her. As per usual in bed, the female was gathered up and held but now, it was as if she was already pregnant.

“Sleep, my darling.” He uttered into her hair, caressing her arm with the bare tips of his fingers though taking care not to tickle her. “Mother needs her rest.” He lay there for an hour with her until his com crackled into life.

 

“Yes?”

 

**“Sir, there’s been a security breach.”**

 


	22. Little Dove and the War Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starkiller is fired for the first and last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe this is the longest chapter of Pristine Condition to date! Enjoy!

 

_"Flatter me, and I may not believe you. Criticize me, and I may not like you. Ignore me, and I may not forgive you. Encourage me, and I will not forget you. Love me and I may be forced to love you." William Arthur Ward_

 

**“Alert General Hux. And stop that fighter.”**

 

 

Security breach was an understatement. Hux arrived at the control room overlooking the departure bay (where the com had come from) and found it empty and in a state only rivalled by the destruction Kylo Ren left in his wake. The supposedly impenetrable glass separating the two vast areas lay in pieces on both sides, computer monitors sparked and control panels fizzed; several abandoned headsets were scattered on the floor and dangling helplessly from their sockets. He would have to try elsewhere. Arriving on the main bridge, there was a degree of mass hysteria so of course, the General zoned in on Lieutenant Mitaka for an explanation. Time was of the essence and the redhead was still ignorant of the extent of the situation.

 

 

 _“What the hell happened?!”_ He hissed to his companion’s caretaker subtly, unnerved at the concept of a security breach on his flagship at any stage but especially when his Lucilla was so fragile and their desired future was almost secure. Of course his pride was injured too, it reflected poorly on him for such an occurrence.

 

 

“Sir, the pilot escaped with the help of a Stormtrooper.” Hux’s blood ran cold but Mitaka wasn’t finished. “They’ve stolen a Tie-Fighter; Hangar six control room had to be evacuated due to broken glass and extensive damage to equipment with the risk of explosion.” The Lieutenant had taken up his position at a control console and the General followed. “They’re trying to exit the immediate vicinity but everything is being done to stop them.” His immediate thought was sending Stormtroopers to his quarters but if the perpetrators were off-ship, Lucilla was safe. It seemed Mitaka’s shyness and meekness had been forgotten; in the heat of duty, he was competent, calm and reliable. As he should be. There were several diverse pitches of alarmed beeping coming from different locations in the control room and Hux looked to Mitaka who checked over his monitor.

 

 

“Sir, they've taken out our turbo-lasers.” The Lieutenant relayed calmly but with undertones of urgency as Hux stepped onto the main platform running through the control room, pacing it with a clear and confident dominance.

 

 

“Use the ventral cannons.” He instructed flawlessly with barely a seconds thought; it was the most natural and possibly effective course of action. They were always the next step should the turbo-lasers fail.

 

 

“Yes, sir. Bringing them online.” Hux relaxed for a moment. He had total faith in the efficiency and dedication of his staff but also in the design and strength of Finalizer. He believed with every fiber of his being that this would be resolved soon and with the desired result. Until….

 

 

 **“General Hux.”** The sliding doors of the main bridge glided to the command of the sensors and Kylo Ren appeared from nowhere. Hux felt his stomach coil at the modulator and the mass of black that swept towards him. Perfect. Ren would use this. He would use it to undermine the General and emasculate him to beyond the point of it being unbearable. He would, no doubt, find a way of using it to his advantage in a bid to gain Lucilla as he’d previously been unable to do. **“Is it the Resistance pilot?”** Hux turned and by the time he had completed the length of the platform in yet another pace, Ren was upon him.

 

 

“Yes.” Hux confessed crisply, almost too preoccupied with the current predicament to be overcome with the hatred he’d planted and nourished for the Knight. Almost. He felt a prickle of it even now with the control room nearly in a frenzy. “And he had help. From one of our own.” Hands folded tight behind his back, he stared out at the expanse of stars but the battle of the lone Tie-Fighter couldn’t be seen from the angle of the control room. Harassed, Hux continued as Ren moved away in a thoughtful saunter. “We're checking the registers now to identify which Stormtrooper it was.”

 

 

 **“……The one from the village. FN-2187.”** The slightly older of the two restrained himself from showing discomfort. He had limited respect for the Force; he relied on discipline, order and military tact in his daily routine (except where Lucilla was involved, she required a far more gentle approach). But Ren did possess an obvious power that didn’t just stretch to his lightsaber and his ability to warp the mind to his will. It made Hux uneasy that someone so unpredictable and aggressive could wield such power. Mitaka, however, granted him a merciful distraction.

 

 

“Sir. Ventral cannons hot.” A fire of righteousness lit in the General’s breast. This was retribution for blatant disobedience. Was that even a strong enough word? Abandonment? Betrayal? It mattered not; it was ending now. His cold but passionate order would ensure that the traitor and his pilot would meet a fiery and spiraling death.

 

 

_“Fire.”_

 

 

With the way Finalizer was constructed, Hux could not feel the dropping or the turning of the cannons. Nor could hear the clicking when they locked onto their target but he wished he could. He wanted to relish every tiny detail of that turncoat’s terrible demise, even if it cost him a Tie Fighter. But the tracker on the fighter showed no damage or even signs of slowing down. Irritated, Hux’s attention was grabbed by Captain Phasma. He could not categorically say that he recognized the young man on the projections and according to the service record: Jakku had been his first official mission. He couldn’t fathom why a sanitation Trooper was on Jakku on a mission Ren insisted was so important but there were far more pressing things at hand.

 

 

“FN-2187 reported to my division, was evaluated and sent to Reconditioning.” Captain Phasma revealed loyally though it was impossible to tell if the chrome Trooper was ashamed by the instance; it was common knowledge she held great pride in the quality of the Stormtroopers, however she couldn’t be blamed for this.

 

 

“No prior signs of non-conformity?” Hux pressed but Phasma was steadfast.

 

 

“This was his first offense.”

 

 

“General.” He turned away from the projections to a female technician sitting at a console a few feet away. “They’ve been hit.”

 

 

“Destroyed?” The General questioned firmly as he approached the console in the same way he had paraded on the platform. 

 

 

“Disabled.” She replied as her eyes scanned the returning data from the crashed fighter. The information kept coming and she delivered it as she got it. “They were headed back to Jakku. The fighter's projected a crash in the Goazon badlands.”

 

 

“They were going back for the droid.” Hux surmised from the flashing notes coming up on the console screen with his lips pursed. “Send a squad to the wreckage.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Under the Supreme Leader’s instruction, preparations were being made for the initial firing of Starkiller. The Supreme Leader was specific and even with Ren questioning his troops, processes and the whole Stormtrooper program; but Hux was determined. True, the droid had slipped through their fingers on Jakku twice over and now, two more fugitives had been added to the bounty list. With any luck, the traitor and his comrade would be delivered to them soon; there were too many looking for them for them to hide for too long. But the General had something else on his mind before he left for Starkiller Base. Orders had already been sent on to the staff on the base; primary preparations were being attended to prior to his arrival.

 

 

The General found his Lucilla at her vanity table. The blue eyed beauty skimmed the soft bristles of her sea shell brush through her satin mane and he halted at the bedroom door just to watch her while the skull looked on. Ever before she came to him, he had always intended to use Starkiller Base and it did seem that the Hosnian System was always the intended target to forward himself and his personal agenda. Now though, while those aspects still stood; he wanted to rebuild the galaxy and mold it to give Lucilla everything; whatever whim and desire she found herself craving. Removing the heart of the Republic was the first step to securing that legacy.

 

 

Lucilla didn’t realize her General was present until he was almost upon her. An affectionate, amicable kiss was pressed to the companion’s forehead and their parting was curbed by both his gloved hands cupping under her chin, simply holding her and admiring her. As always, when those incredible eyes heightened to him, he felt his heart flutter.

 

 

“Do you know what immediately enters my head when I see you?” He asked quietly, giving her cheek a careful stroke of his thumb as if she would bruise so easily. Lucilla didn’t give him a verbal answer, a mere inclination of her head in the scope that he allowed her with his grasp. “Even when you’re neutral like this or when you have gone to bed before I return; I wonder what I did to deserve you. I wonder if I was kind to someone, if I helped someone or was fortune just on my side?” A miniscule twinge of disappointment rippled in that angelic expression when he relinquished her face.

 

 

“That ends today, my darling.” He straightened his posture almost to an extreme and stalked to the other side of the bed to start undressing. Lucilla grew more curious and so turned in her chair to follow him, obviously unperturbed by his growing nakedness. “From today, we do not rely on fate nor will we leave things to chance, my rose. We will make our own destinies, you and I.” He looked over in time to see Lucilla’s eyes dropping to below his waist and though time was short, the redhead couldn’t resist.

 

 

“You know it’s rude to stare, little dove.” Hux reprimanded his most prized possession (or who _had_ been his most prized possession) with a soft sort of danger as he made his way back around the bed to where she still sat. Lucilla was overshadowed by her General’s skinny but (in her eyes) impeccable form and that gaze, a sort of innocent _come hither_ , tempted him to caress the back of her head and that was the only coercion she needed. There was a sharp intake of breath when Hux’s head tipped back as the wet heat of Lucilla’s mouth enveloped him; the feather light movement was perfect for his mood.

 

 

Her own enjoyment was mirrored in the low sighs of pleasure intimately paired with his groans of indulgence while small and almost respectable thrusts led into her mouth, aiming for her throat. One alabaster hand snaked upwards to grip his thigh where it was quickly joined by one of his own; a silent gesture of appreciation and support. As much as he enjoyed the contact (and such contact was regular but that never seemed to take away from it), he released the ebony tresses he had gathered into his hand during the brief encounter and pulled his hips away. He left her mouth to a pout of protest but it was forgotten when her chin was taken in his palms and her lips claimed for the first time since that afternoon.

 

 

“Later, little dove.” He promised, having drawn away just enough to speak. “You can have me later. But first, there is something extremely important that we must attend to.” For the second time, she was released and resumed his previous venture: His dress uniform. Lucilla had only ever seen it on the hanger in the closet but never on his person; not even their first time on Starkiller which, for all intents and purposes, had been something of an event.

 

 

 _“We? And what might that be?”_ The female asked with a slight strain from where he had been positioned in her mouth. She had turned in her chair again to find her master had already applied fresh underwear (covering the still semi-erection), socks, suspenders and even shoulder pads as the base layer. At first, he didn’t answer. He was too engaged with carefully unfolding the middle layer of his uniform. The trousers didn’t seem to flare at the thigh as much as his usual ones but other than that, she could see no difference. The tunic seemed to fit more snuggly, giving the impression he was sturdier than he actually was but she assumed that was down to the shoulder pads. The belt he unfurled was not the one she was used to fighting with on an almost nightly basis. This one looked heavier and if she was correct, the plain silver buckle was wider than his usual.

 

 

Patiently, she continued to wait for an answer. She would not press him but it was not out of fear. Her General had seated himself on the bed with a set of long, wooden handled boot hooks and proceeded to pull on a set of boots that had come from the back of the closet. His everyday boots were pristine but these were even more so. She could almost venture to guess that they had never been worn. When he stood and walked a few paces (presumably to break them in), the leather creaked; much like the fresh gloves he had just covered his strong but pasty hands with.

 

 

Another greatcoat, a magnificent one of jet black Garber wool, draped over his form. On this particular occasion, he wore his arms on the sleeves, a habit he only sometimes embraced but from having his coat thrown across her while she lay on the sofa as he worked; she knew the material could overheat quite quickly. He passed something small from the pocket of his regular greatcoat into the new one and his look was completed by a crested command cap she had never seen before. He examined himself like a proud alpha in the mirror and when he was satisfied, he turned back to his precious companion.

 

 

“Have you bathed, little dove?” He bent down to push his forehead against hers and instantly, she felt the nerves but also the power. His eyes closed in relaxation; she was his only true haven.

 

 _“I have.”_ She answered unevenly, tilting her head ever so slightly; not enough to disturb the position but enough to convey her curiosity. _“Not long before you came back. My hair is just dry. Orion, what’s going on?”_

 

“We’re declaring war on the Republic.” He answered with the utmost confidence, the nerves disappearing when he opened his eyes and locked them with hers. “Well, we’re going to strike before they can react.” He took in the look of uncertainty that had ghosted across those lavish features and sighed. “Lucilla….” Hux was on his knees and with both her ivory hands clasped in the black leather of his. “Darling, I understand this is new to you but you must listen to me. I think I can speak for both of us when I say we want to raise our children in a peaceful and ordered galaxy, wouldn’t you agree?” Lucilla nodded silently but the uncertainty had barely lessened.

 

 

“My rose, if we don’t do this now; they will come for us. They will take me and they will execute me.” His grip tightened at the tiny flicker of panic in her face but he continued. “They will take you and, little dove; believe me when I say I don’t want to think of what they would do to you. The galaxy needs to be led by those who know how to lead it; by those who know how to instill discipline and structure. If this continues, if the Republic is not brought to task, there will be no peace. As it is, we are teetering on war but with this one act, we can end it before it begins.” Hux knew Lucilla’s grasp of politics was limited. He told her what he wanted her to know and he felt it was imperative that she believed this. Mainly because he believed it.

 

 

 

“Lucilla, I want you there at my side when we make the galaxy a safer place for _our_ family. And not just ours. For the billions of families across the galaxy that have no voice under the tyranny of the Republic and their barbaric attack dogs in the Resistance. We must help them because no one else will.” She seemed more convinced; he could see it in her face. He relinquished one of her hands and reached up to stroke her cheek instead. “Will you help me, my Empress? For us? For our children that are yet to be but **will** be? For those with no voice? Those people will need a gentle guiding hand and I know the one I’m holding is the one they wait for.” It was a lot to process but ever loyal, Lucilla nodded again; if a little numbly.

 

 

 _“I will. I’ll do it for you. I’ll do it for our little ones and I’ll do it for those oppressed.”_ Hux rose and released her hand but kept the one on her cheek in place. He bent down to her placed the sweetest kiss to the tip of her nose.

 

“Your birthday present.” He murmured, seeing little reason to raise his voice beyond that. “Change into it. All of it. I’ll be back for you in an hour.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He was true to his word. Approximately fifty-five minutes later, the main door to the living quarters slid back to admit him and she was already waiting. Her General stopped a few feet and took her in; exceptionally pleased with what he saw. Her birthday present from a month or so previous consisted of a dress of deep garnet Dramassian Shimmersilk encasing in tightly on her delicate chest (enough to feel though not enough to hurt) but flowed out around her legs and swept the floor behind her when she walked. Or at least it would; she had yet to wear it before that day. The layer upon layer of the thin, supple material was of the highest quality; he had gone to extreme lengths and cost just to acquire it. And that was just her dress.

 

 

Her ears, her neck and even her hair were adorned with scarlet stones; no effort or expense had been spared for her birthday and indeed, he had intended for it to be worn when the time to use Starkiller finally came. Said stones, exquisite Fire Rubies, had been blood mined from the moon of Lothal, no doubt to the great pains or even death of some unfortunate laborer. But her General paid no mind to it; his Lucilla was breathtaking and if someone lost their life for those gems, so be it. Whether Lucilla knew it or not, the jewels (set in Platinum from Goroth Prime) were significant in the early days of the Galactic Empire; their sheer value alone meant only the elite possessed them.

 

 

The wives and mistresses of high ranking officials and even Emperors had worn them before her and she would do the same. Not that she would be a mistress or a companion for much longer if he had anything to do with it. More to the point and Lucilla wouldn't notice this until she got to Starkiller (if she noticed it at all), but the black cloak of Tomuon cloth combined with the raven of her hair and the burgundy of her dress suggested she had been purposely dressed in the colours of the First Order.

 

 

The dress would not retain an awful lot of heat since the Shimmersilk was so incredibly light but Tomuon Cloth was a strong, yet soft fabric made from the wool of the Tomuon of Askaj. Around the hood and on the sweeping end, the pleasantly heavy material was trimmed with the whitish-grey fur of a Jakobeast. It seemed the General had sought out only the finest, rarest and extravagant materials (barely) available to piece together what struck him when he thought of Lucilla and Starkiller together. The combination of the fabric, wool and fur would certainly keep her warm on the icy terrain.

 

 

"You look magnificent. Look at you." Almost breathless, her General closed the distance and his darling Lucilla's face was grasped once more. Needless to say, her hair and her make-up were just as immaculate as the new outfit; how she would be expected to dress as the wife of a General, let alone an Emperor. Not that he had let on anything of such intentions just yet. She had spent enough time in front of the mirror since he left her to know how she looked. His colder lips pressed to hers though the gesture was not a lasting one. “Come, we’re on schedule; I’d like to keep it that way.”

 

 

 _“Where is Mitaka?”_ Lucilla allowed herself to be let go of without protest. _“My bag….”_

“You don’t need a bag; we’ll be returning tonight.” He pledged, extending his arm to her and she, as always, took it obediently.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

As always, Lucilla drew subtle stares wherever she went at her General’s side. His possessiveness had not abated even a little and the crook of his arm did pinch hers slightly though it was hardly intentional. A collection of officers (including the chrome Trooper that had brought her to the General’s quarters on her first night) waited as Lucilla and Hux entered the shuttle first though Mitaka was not among them; she managed to steal a glance around the spacious seating area despite the weight of her hood but he wasn’t there. Her face was visible if one could look closely enough but it seemed the purpose of the flared hood was to cast a shadow.

 

 

Her General left the shuttle first after the short trip to Starkiller but only to help her out before the other officials. Due to the overwhelming natural cold of the base, several heaters blew warm air into the docking bay but the heat had been increased by a brief com from Hux’s office back on Finalizer for when she disembarked; the thought of his elegant Lucilla braving the cold for any longer than she had to plucked at his indignation. On the few occasions that the companion visited Starkiller, she was always escorted to their quarters first so her General could work without distraction. Now though, their path strayed nowhere close to where she usually went.

 

 

The officers following tried to pay no mind to the way their leader clutched the arm of this easily breakable creature with devotion and care. They pretended not to notice the way he would lean down close to speak to her or how his free hand would often cross over to touch her face whenever they came to a stop for whatever reason. She was clearly important but it seemed he knew well enough to keep his work and his private life separate. And she was the epitome of his private life.

 

 

“It’s about to get very cold, little dove.” He told her with a considerate murmur as they approached a curtain. When it was pulled back, the icy waft of a breeze hit and Lucilla tensed temporarily though she had to keep in step with her General’s pace. Preoccupied enough with her nerves and her escort’s form blocking her, she was still to extend her attention to the enormity of where she actually stood. Without fail, eyes settled on Hux’s companion but one gaze particularly pricked at her. When she followed it, her pulse and the heart that pushed it almost stilled.

 

 

 _“What is he doing here?”_ The dainty female dropped her voice and did all in her power to resist the scrutinous glare but it was as piercing as the brisk chill caressing her face. Curiosity flashed in her General’s air for a moment until he followed her eye-line. Eyes narrowed, nostrils flared and fury glowing at the smug condescension of the elder Hux standing with a select few of his own officers (including Colonel Damten) and watching the companion like something predatory. Whoever gave them clearance to land would find themselves in exceptional trouble.

 

 

“He will be left nowhere near you, little dove; I promise. None of them will.”  How he kept himself contained was still a mystery but the best course of action seemed to be to soothe Lucilla rather than getting riled up. The dark haired darling was put standing close to but apart from Captain Phasma, she was separate from the Order to a degree but her ensemble suggested she was not too far removed from it. Lucilla’s hand was taken in his own and lifted to his lips for his officers (and to irk his father) to see before he crossed the short distance to Captain Phasma. She watched as unreadable words were exchanged though the chrome Trooper did divert her helmeted sight to the companion for scarcely a second and a nod of understanding and acceptance satisfied the General. Only when he went to take his place at the front of the podium did Lucilla look and when she did, the view was terrifyingly awe-inspiring.

 

 

In what looked like a rally, thousands of Stormtroopers stand below, seemingly organized neatly into their squadrons; all clad in their pristine white armour and none besmirched in any way. If it weren’t for the defining grey of the mountain range, she could have sworn they were part of the snowy landscape. Tie-Fighters, officers of varying ranks (only indicated by the differences in their uniforms), a diversity of vehicles and huge, billowing red banners made it an impressive but uneasy spectacle. At least for Lucilla who had never experienced anything of this nature before. Of course, the cold still jabbed at her and caused her to pull her cloak tighter around herself while still doing her utmost to ignore her purchaser to her left.

 

 

She knew this speech inside out. He had laid his head in her lap and edited it as she stroked his hair and encouraged him, told him truthfully what she thought. When it was completed and he was satisfied with the end result, he would mutter it in his sleep until it was drilled into his sleeping companion also. The speech didn’t sound like much when it was uttered like a sonnet but now…. At the head of thousands of his soldiers and officers, before his waiting supporters and loyalists, it had a far more in depth meaning. Particularly when it was roared with passion and vigour, bouncing off every surface and being absorbed by each Stormtrooper.

 

 

 **“Today is the end of the Republic!”** The first line chilled her; not with fear but with pride. _Her_ master. _Her_ General. _Her_ lover. The one that would bed her that night while the stirring rhetoric echoed in her mind. He had begun evenly and calmly but the more he listened to himself and became enthralled by his own propaganda, the more he seemed to rile himself. “ **The end of a regime that acquiesces to disorder! At this very moment,** **in a system far from here the New** **Republic LIES to the GALAXY while secretly supporting the treachery of** **the loathsome Resistance. This fierce** **machine which you have built, upon** **which we stand, will bring an end to** **the Senate! To their cherished fleet!** **All remaining systems will bow to** **the First Order! And will remember** **this... as the last day of the Republic!”**

The last line was received with the clattering of armour from thousands of Stormtroopers; no cheering or hollering simply silence broken by that eerie sound. An ominous humming started to drum somewhere in the background or from all around or from beneath, it was difficult to tell. Hux restrained himself from looking back; his troops needed to be safe in the knowledge that his focus was on the task at hand and such a mammoth task it was. The humming seemed to grow and intensify and crescendo until it was deafening. Lucilla flinched at the noise to her sensitive ears but then the devastating order came.

 

**“FIRE!!”**

The scraping and clamouring of countless sets of armour and even more boots erupted in unison at the command to face the other direction; the outright pageantry was to be admired if nothing else. Like every other head, Lucilla lifted hers to the sky (without disturbing her hood) and the constant humming was joined by a more high pitched and sinister rumbling. In that instant, something erupted. The skyline over the snowy terrain was turned to blood if only for a few seconds. The trees shook and the snow melted in the time it took for Lucilla to draw a gasp. The beam soaring towards the sky didn’t seem real. But the sudden burst of heat and force from it grounded her in reality. The backlash caught not only her master’s coat but her own cloak and the heavy material dragged at her until she took a step back to support herself.

 

 

Lucilla couldn’t see the wild burning of power in her lover’s eyes nor could she see the beam reaching into space and beyond Starkiller. She could not see the implications of her support, her loyalty and her pride. Nor would she be able to. The little dove wouldn’t hear the screaming, the panic, the desperation of mothers trying to shield their children or husbands trying to buffer their wives when the sky on Hosnian Prime and its moons turned to crimson. She was safely away from it; as safe as she could be, in fact. This was to safeguard the family she was going to have and to bring balance to the galaxy. Or so she thought. She had no idea that this act was the beginning of a war to be fought and not one avoided.

 

 

So when the somber silence resumed and the sky returned to white, her General only wanted his companion. Lucilla’s tender form was clutched and his lips pushed hard to hers under the hood while the Admiral looked on in disgust. She held his side with one ghostly hand and rested the other on his chest; a dismissal to the elder Hux. _I’ll touch your son if I want to._ As though relieved of pent up longing, he pulled away and cradled slight form within his arms. All of this was for them. For their children. For their life together. To be unquestioned in their rule side by side. He didn’t need to say anything; as far as they were both concerned, he had just done the ultimate to secure a future for them and what would be theirs. Lucilla, however, pulled herself as close as she could and with genuine and true joy and reverence, murmured:

 

_“I’m so proud of you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted Lucilla to be heavily pregnant on Starkiller just to add to how fucked up it is but we can’t have everything we want!


	23. Crumbling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Starkiller Base commences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accompanying soundtrack: Better Love by Hozier

_And I've never loved a darker blue_

_Than the darkness I have known in you, own from you_

_You, whose heart would sing of anarchy_

_You would laugh at meanings, guarantees, so beautifully_

_When our truth is burned from history_

_By those who figured justice in fond memory, witness me_

_Like fire weeping from a cedar tree_

_Know that my love would burn with me_

_We'll live eternally_

Better Love- Hozier

 

Despite the display to purposely disgust his father, both Lucilla and her General felt the scrutinous piercing until they parted; even then, the revilement was palpable. Damten was no better. The other officers dutifully ignored the uncharacteristic actions directly but curiosity bubbled in the ranks. Hux felt complete; his weapon was a success, he had the woman of his dreams at his side, the Republic was gone and he had shown up his father. He gazed longingly at the beautiful creature beneath the hood who looked back at him with shy, lowered lashes; as if his despicable actions had been some sort of declaration of undying love. If his propaganda was to be believed (the kind he whispered to her at night), he had done the ultimate to secure a safe place for their (and other) children to be born and raised.

 

 

“Come, little dove. Let’s get you inside, it’s far too cold for you out here.” Lucilla’s arm was slipped into her General’s and an ushering gesture granted the officers permission to start disbanding from the podium. Hux held his father’s appalled stare for a moment (Lucilla openly resisted it), defiant while black uniformed staff milled out around them and Captain Phasma took her place on the companion’s other side, blaster at the ready. “I will escort Lucilla back to our quarters.” He spoke to Phasma now while the cloaked female gratuitously embraced the wave of heat waiting just beyond the curtain. “We must make a detour first but when we get there, I expect two Stormtroopers outside the door and I would request that you make that corridor part of your patrol. Dismissed.”

 

 

 _“Where are we going?”_ The gentle tickle of curiosity in her voice enticed him and strengthened his resolve in his secretive intentions. In the same fashion as when he dressed in his formal uniform, he opted to make her wait for an answer. Lucilla was led to a deserted corridor and before she could ask again, her space was invaded but she more than welcomed it. He had kissed her on Starkiller in front of his men and his father but this time was for them and only for them. He was already riled; the weapon, the power, the control…. It all clicked into place and seemed to infect her too. Slowly but surely, the female found herself being backed towards the wall and in those few seconds, their lips never separated.

 

 

 _“I promised you a later.”_ Hux breathed, barely controlling himself for long enough to pull away and speak though he didn’t stray very far.

 

 _“You did.”_ She agreed without bothering to veil the spark of lust he’d ignited, grinding her hips lightly against the wall but he was close enough to feel it. Gods, she was beautiful when she was corrupted. _“Am I going to get it?”_ That was all the encouragement he needed.

 

 

A sanitation equipment supply closet would do. In fact; it was exciting, lewd and erotic. To giggle would shatter the illusion of danger and intrigue but luckily, he didn’t give her too much time to tempt fate. The supply closet was cluttered and dimly lit with just enough room for the couple to stand and light to see. It was a different and thrilling venture mirrored by the resumed, animalistic kiss when Lucilla’s back hit the wall with more force than before.  Though the companion had been kept somewhat sheltered by her General, she threw herself into the new experience with enthusiasm which she vocalized in a quiet, contented sigh as her hood was tossed back and her ruby-adorned neck was attacked with eager lips. Heaven forbid an unfortunate sanitation Trooper should come to collect equipment and find their General in such a compromising position with a woman who was not (yet) his wife. Or at all, in fact.

 

 

 

 _“I want you.”_ Came the stirred murmur from against her collar bone where the ivory skin was flushed from the suckling; he’d congratulate himself on the bruise later.

 

 

 _“So take me.”_ The dare sent him into a passionate frenzy. Her lips were reclaimed (in a less than gentle way), her tongue was tinkered with his while his hands roamed with little concern for his staunch and conservative exterior: She had reduced him to an animal once again. The hat was swiped from his head and the greatcoat was shrugged carelessly from his arms and shoulders before he pressed her further into the wall, as if the second it had taken to disregard his coat would make her change her mind. It seemed not to be the case, however, when those delicate arms encased his neck; they urged him to continue in his borderline dominant role, aching to give in to the growing discomfort growing in his trousers.

 

 

Several layers of the expensive, blood-red Shimmersilk were pushed up, the rapidness of his actions were born of frustration when the slippery material would drip through his hands and their repeated fumbling. Of course, Lucilla writhing against him only tormented him further in the delay to get to where he wanted to be. Her arms slithered from his neck and dropped to his slacks, unhooking the small metal clasp above the zip and watching for the contortion of his face when she stole the first naked touch. Eventually, he was able to return the favour and the mutual panting of wanting and greed was quietened when their lips moulded again to fit the other’s.

 

 

 _“Take me for I am yours and only yours.”_ The rhetoric never failed to drive him and now was certainly no exception. He struggled against the raw touch of her hand on his shaft and while he had been tempted to restrain himself until they returned to Finalizer, he knew now he couldn’t. So he heeded her. With the last barricades of fabric removed and an ivory thigh grasped to lock one leg around his waist, her General arched his hips and found the wet heat he longed for. The physical connection caused him to collapse into her, holding her smaller form within a protective hold while his forehead dropped to hers in an effort to be as close to his salvation as possible.

 

 

He felt her arms enclose his neck again and his comfort raised. No matter where they were or how they did it, there was no question that _this_ meant something different to when she arrived on Finalizer. The development had taken time and Hux couldn’t begin to think of where he’d be now if he’d sent her away like he’d initially intended. Chest to chest, hips to hips, forehead to forehead; his thrusts started with something akin to gentility but they both knew such consideration wouldn’t last. In truth? Neither of them wanted it to. Mouths sealed to each other’s only muffled the sounds of enjoyment, they weren’t stemmed completely.

 

_“Guardian of my heart.”_ Hux dragged himself back to pepper his beloved’s face, to rumble the devotions as she became more vocal when his movements inside her intensified; the ritual promise. _“Keeper of my soul.”_ His grip tightened to hold her to him as he dug deeper, harder and faster; of course she provided him with the accurate responses, all of which naturally occurred to her out of hunger. _“Mine for the rest of my days; Queen of my Empire, mother of my sons, everything I have ever wanted.”_ A single alabaster hand moved from the wall beside her to cradle the side of her master’s face, guiding him back to her where their lips met for the umpteenth time.

 

 

 _“They were looking at me, watching me.”_ She murmured, her voice on a sultry edge; lips hovering just enough away after separating them from a brief reunion. The revelation just seemed to spur him on, waking his possessive side that provoked him to dive for her neck again, continuing to marking his way along it. He reveled in the gasps and the groans he extracted with both his teeth and hips, in the way they fitted so perfectly as if she had been made just for him. Lucilla’s back slid up the wall with every harsh thrust delivered with merciless pace and gusto.

 

 

 _“Let them look, let them watch; you know if any man tries to take you from me, I will personally separate his head from his shoulders!”_ The erotic snarl was testament to the woken beast inside. The stannic wall against Lucilla’s exposed buttocks had warmed from the continuous movement but her General was working himself in a primal frenzy. The noises she made, the way her stunning features contorted, her heated breath on his face…. It wouldn’t be long for either of them. In an impulsive move fueled by aroused temper at the very thought; a large, gloved hand held Lucilla’s neck from behind while the other released her thigh, grabbed the necklace and yanked with everything he had; the adrenaline made short work of it. Stones skittered and the ruins of the platinum collar were tossed aside, leaving her neck bare and free; expense be damned.

_“Nothing and no one will take me from you, I promise you.”_ That action cemented it for her, the symbolism of it even if it had been mildly painful. Everything was about to change. Rubies crunched under Hux’s foot as he pressed in towards her again to reclaim her; his Empress, his queen, his Lucilla. His hips started to stutter but her General didn’t want it to end; there were too many pure and too many filthy aspects that they had never had before but his work still played in the back of his mind, the next step that must be taken. A strangled moan itched in his throat and passed it to hers in the exchange of oral fluids that, like the rest of her, tasted like something a mere human wasn’t worthy to try. Sweat soaked and tousled, her pale fingers threaded into his hair in a vain attempt to tame it before they even finished though he was confident no one would question his appearance.

 

 

 _“Lucilla….”_ The amorous gasp came forth like from a desert-scorched throat, she knew he was close. His pace and his rhythm changed, his thrusts were no longer fluid but rather hammering; deep, bruising and purposeful. The angle provided by her leg around his waist edged her further until her forehead was rested against her General’s shoulder as she whined her way through a sweet, deserved orgasm. One more demanding plunge was all it took and a low thunder of obscenely sensual agony for the redhead to spill everything he had into his blue eyed beauty. An unnumbered kiss followed as they panted into each other; soaking, literally and metaphorically in both bodily fluids and the glorious feeling they only seemed to get from each other. Hesitantly, Hux withdrew and carefully tucked himself away after he had placed her leg down and let the silk fall with it.

 

 

“Lucilla.” Hux dipped his forehead to hers, his voice low and serene but serious and reverent. The post-coital calm soothed them like the pool on Naboo and though the companion still panted lightly, she still clung to her General but nuzzled him with the utmost affection when his face came close to hers. With his eyes half closed and his speech dimmed, he may have fallen asleep on his feet with Lucilla still against the wall. “My darling, my angel, my Empress. We haven’t won yet. The Resistance must be dispensed and only then will the galaxy be ours. I’m going to escort you to our quarters, you are not to undress for we will be returning to Finalizer with little delay.”

 

 

“Little dove, when we get there, I have a gift for you.” With a playfully arched eyebrow and an arched eyebrow, she was about to jest the phenomenon of him giving her gifts that were clearly luxuries which he claimed were necessities and not gifts at all. However; he stopped her, his tone unchanging though uncertain while he tried to word his sentiments correctly. “This gift…. It will change things and you are not to think of my feelings when you accept or reject it. I want you to choose based on your own thoughts and desires as a free woman, not as a companion or a slave. Whichever way you choose, I will respect, acknowledge and abide by. Can you do that for me?”

 

 

Lucilla’s eyes drifted to the mess of rubies and platinum decorating the dull floor of the supply closet. Should some Stormtrooper defect, they would find a means of setting themselves up for a significant time simply discarded like rubbish. It had been beautiful, that necklace, that collar. But it had been heavy and restricting; without it, she felt lighter. That aside, curiosity burned with his request. A gift? Not just a gift but a gift that would change things? Naïve and clueless, Lucilla simply nodded with the ghost of a reassuring smile. Satisfied, her General went about locating his hat and his greatcoat before they left but it wouldn’t be that easy. The corridor outside wasn’t as empty as when they’d entered the closet. Even if it was only one person more crowded. Lucilla spotted him first and when she froze, Orion did too.

 

 

“They’re waiting for you on the bridge.” The Admiral greeted the pair coldly but mockingly, relishing the all-too-obvious blush creeping into the companion’s cheeks when she realized – _He’d heard everything._ She almost reverted to her previous self; as if the close and direct presence of her purchaser, the one who had scanned her naked at the compound, had broken a year of progress. However, her lover wouldn’t entertain it.

 

 

“Tell them I will be with them shortly.” Hux Junior barely refused to acknowledge his father bar the careless and dismissive retort he might give to an inferior officer. Lucilla’s arm was given a very gentle tug with his to get her walking again and away from the Admiral’s predatory leer but the eldest male had already seen her fear. Her General maintained a brisk pace, slow enough for Lucilla to keep up but quick enough to get her away from the invasion but it wasn’t to be when the Admiral’s regimented footsteps followed behind theirs. _“Remember my promise.”_ He told her quietly; casting her back to Starkiller, reminding her that his father would be left nowhere near her.

 

 

The Stormtroopers were in place as ordered; one on either side of the door and both armed, it seemed Captain Phasma had taken it upon herself to upgrade their weapons from standard issue blasters. It was a gesture Hux both noticed and appreciated. Lucilla was brought in, subtly wrought and distressed but he did his best to comfort her though it was short-lived; he couldn’t keep the bridge waiting. Pledging to return as swiftly as possible, he found it difficult to pry his lips from hers before sweeping out into the corridor again. He had hoped that his brief absence would deter other (fading) redhead but no.

 

 

“Anyone trying to force their way in is to be shot on sight.” The order was delivered with vigour and viciousness, aimed particularly at the man that now trailed after him. The crackling affirmation of the Stormtroopers radio communicators set his mind at ease, for now at least.

 

 

“I’m curious as to why you dressed it in more than it’s worth.” The icy reverberation that haunted a tormented childhood gained on him, moving from behind to stride beside him instead. The son bit back the urge to physically retaliate, to repay a past of torture but by some miracle, managed to restrain himself. Standing at more or less the same height and strutting at the same pace, they would have been a remarkable team with unlimited resources, discipline and experience but some things were too deep to forgive and forget. “The Colonel is willing to forgive your indiscretion. Reconsider. A date will be set and you may keep your who-“

 

“Allow me to give you a valuable piece of advice, _Admiral.”_ No serpent alive or dead could have spat its venom to equal General Hux’s when he faced his father. He stopped and cut in front of the other male to block him; the very image of himself and squared his shoulders in a display of dominance and a challenging curve of his lip. It seemed the usual cowardly respect he held had evaporated. “I would be _very_ cautious when you speak about your future Empress. And she won’t be just an Empress. She will be my wife, the mother of my children so I would **suggest** that you watch how you speak. My threat still stands as I’m sure does yours.”

 

 

“You still hold that ridiculous pipedream.” The observation was made with chilling condescension but the younger Hux held his nerve while the elder’s cheek muscles worked together to pull into a wolfish smirk. “Do you really think I would bow my head to _that?_ Truly? You think the woman I heard moaning like she was being paid for it is fit to be an Empress? Then again, I suppose you could say those rubies were payment enough though I noticed she had them leaving the podium but not leaving the supply closet?” His son’s lip twitched but he bit back a response for now. The Admiral took that as an invitation to continue to the bone with his goading. “She is not an Empress. Nor is she wife or a mother. She is a whore. A prostitute. A thing to be used and discarded. And believe me, General; she _will_ be discarded.”

 

 

“I swore I would wipe out the Republic and their fleet and I have.” Orion growled, the twitch had frozen high into a furious snarl like some magnificent predator readying himself to take on an alpha male. “I swore the Resistance would crumble and in a few short hours, they will do just that. I swore I would take over this galaxy and that is next on my agenda with Lucilla at my side.” A pregnant pause bubbled between the two; one reminding himself of his posture and composure in the presence of rage while the other remained haughty and smug. “Now Admiral, it would be much appreciated if you and your officers would vacate my base. You had no interest in aiding in the demise of the Republic so it is safe to assume that you have no intention of aiding with the rest. Good day, sir.”

 

 

 

 

The General never underestimated an enemy. It was a bad habit some officers made that led to embarrassment and so Hux tried to avoid it. This particular time, however, he found himself getting carried away. Confidence was one thing but cockiness was another; he was far too sure in the design and foundation of Starkiller Base to worry about a primitive threat from the Resistance. But when he turned and saw the entire fleet of the X-Wings diving straight for Precinct 47, his blood ran cold.

 

“Dispatch all squadrons.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible. He saw it from the bridge, the devastating shockwave from one particular X-Wing taking advantage of an unknown explosive and into the oscillator; he saw it but didn’t believe it. The bridge was in a frenzy; explosions erupting and sirens blaring so Hux turned and ran. Stormtroopers clamoured past him on full alert as the lights began to dim and the ominous rouge of the emergency lighting kicked in while he could practically taste foreboding in every time he forced himself to breathe. Several pieces of rock within the base that he had insisted on keeping for aesthetic crumbled around him, narrowly missing him and instilling even more panic as he tore towards the projection room.

 

 

“Supreme Leader.” Hux’s usually cold, calm demeanour had been discarded and in its place was discord and strife. The projection was already alive when he entered the room at a petrified jog as if it knew. His head whipped to the side and his sprint seemed to skew as another chunk of rock collapsed nearby, the urgency only intensified when this usually quiet room came under attack. The General stopped and gazed up at his master; panting, at a loss and craving guidance. Everything was slipping through his fingers; everything he’d worked for, fought for and striven to build. Pushing out the words just reinforced this terrible situation and made his fears a reality. “The fuel cells have ruptured. The collapse of the planet has begun.”

 

 

“Leave the base at once and come to me with Kylo Ren.” Snoke’s response was grim and desolate, almost thoughtful. He imparted no wisdom and Snoke’s priorities became clear. “It is time to complete his training.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Lucilla. His mind focused on one thing and it was Lucilla. Kylo Ren could wait, the Knight was more than adept while his companion was defenseless, locked away in his quarters with no means of escape. Hell for leather, he bounded as quickly as his heavy regulation boots would allow him towards the open corridor where his quarters were stations. Just as he rounded the corner and it came into view, a sinister rumbling almost didn’t register in his ears. Had he been a few meters closer, Orion would have been killed when another cluster of boulders gave way and shattered into the entry point of the corridor. Hux froze; stopping dead and open mouthed for a moment, riddled with disbelief. Another alarm nearby woke him.

 

 

 _“No.”_ The horrified whisper didn’t sound like his own. Instead of looking up to check for more crashing debris, he trundled forwards to the wall of rock and armed only with his strength, grabbed at a protruding piece and tried to push it with everything he had. The planet had begun to quake, the lights became dimmer and the sirens became more frantic. He tried several pieces of rock, hoping that one would be the key to pry the rest free but each one failed. _“No, no, NO!!!”_ Hux choked back a terrified sob and backed up a few steps as if assessing, racking his brain for something, anything to get to her. Even if he died, he would have died with her; clinging to her, comforting her.

 

 

Something seized him, nothing physical; something else. Duty, responsibility, practicality. He didn’t know what made him do it and he would hate himself once he regained his senses but practically robotically, Hux turned and left the stone clogged corridor behind him.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Kylo Ren, for all his injuries, remained quiet and still on the bed at the back of the shuttle; Hux and Lucilla’s bed. The General knew Ren was awake; if his mind had been more focused, he would have noticed a change in the Knight but would have been unable to pinpoint why. No one knew why, only Kylo Ren. However, what the redhead did know what that he had never hated Ren more than he did now. Had he not been sent to fetch him before the planet collapsed, he might have had time to go around and enter the corridor from the other side…. He might have been able to save her.

 

 

Still numb, dead and with an inability to process any of what had happened, Hux sat silently in the pilot’s seat, letting the coordinates and the autopilot do the work. Staring ahead to the endless diamond-studded blackness, there was a heartbroken incomprehension in that blood-drained face. He tried to think, tried to grasp but his brain didn’t want to work; it was listless and useless. There were no words he could put together to illustrate or even try to understand this loss, this horrendous depravation he was responsible for. Or had it been him? _Nothing and no one will take me from you, I promise you._ Starkiller took her from him. The Resistance took her from him. Before progress on a thought process could be made, the light beeping told him their arrival was imminent.

 

 

Several small creatures waited for them at the bottom of the dropped ramp with a primitive excuse for a stretcher though Ren was able to descend with Hux’s (grudging) assistance. They took him, lay him down and with a strength it didn’t look like they had, heaved him over their shoulders by sticks of bamboo. The General turned to leave but a sudden snatch of his wrist halted him and the scurrying creatures stop with the taut resistance. Hux stared down incredulously at the weak but insistent clamp of Ren’s hand. He had never seen anything more distraught or harrowing in all his life, certainly not in the legendary leader of the Knights of Ren.

 

 

 _“Tat….”_ Ren coughed, tightening his grip and searching for Hux’s eyes with desperation in his own. _“Tatoo_ … _.”_ As if about to launch a mouthful of mucus, the injured male felt a tighten in his chest before he hurled the third and final attempt at a disembodied word. _“Tatooine.”_ As if the attempt at speech had rendered him incapacitated, Ren’s hold loosened until his hand dropped bonelessly and the creatures started to carry him off again. Confused, unnerved and still in shock, the General stood there for a moment and watched Ren be carried away, it appeared the Knight returned the favour with what little consciousness he had.

 

 

He needed to get off the planet. He needed to be away from the causes of his loss.  So far, he had fought to ignore the flashing red dot on the control panel. One new recording. He couldn’t bring himself to push it before now and still he stared at it, half convinced to listen to it, half convinced to delete it. For some unfathomable reason, Hux decided he needed to torture himself and so pushed the button. Nothing could have prepared him for what he heard. A feature of the shuttle paired with Starkiller allowed him audio access to their quarters, like a black-box, once a certain alarm was triggered and would cut off when….

 

 

Hux curled up on the floor, lying against the wall in the fetal position as the traumatic sounds washed over him, sinking in and physically agonizing him. Glass shattering, sirens blaring, the distant firing of X-Wings and Tie Fighters, the rumbling as everything started to come apart. Then the screaming. Then the crying. The sobbing, the begging, the weeping, the weak thumps as she hopelessly hurled her delicate body against the door. The clip lasted less than a minute before it cut out, presumably with the explosion. That was it. That was her last minute. Terrified, alone and desperate. And he didn’t even have a body to cling to. His companion, the love of his life, his little dove, his Empress.... Gone

 

 

He refrained from playing it again despite the deep-seated need to punish himself. Instead, he plunged his hand into the pocket of his greatcoat and withdrew the data stick. He turned it over in his hand, her gift. Pushing it into the nearest drive, he bit his lip in a vain attempt to hold his composure but when the image of a dark haired little girl of no more than six years old, teeth missing but grinning regardless opened in front of him, he could hold it no longer. The staunch, unfeeling and heartless General crumbled like his base.

**_ Missing presumed taken _ **

_Lucilla Bey_

_Six years old_

_Last seen in Undercity of Coruscant_

_Please return her unharmed, no questions will be asked_

 

The com details to a Keir Bey were included, despite the age of the pleading holo. He had already been in touch. Her father was still looking for her.

_I was the moon. She was the sun._

_I was war. She was peace._

_I was disaster. She was beauty._

_I was sorrow. She was happiness._

_She was my salvation. I was her destruction._

To be continued…….?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. Let me know in comments what you think I should do. xxx  
> Please tell me if you cried.


	24. Powder Blue in the Crowd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucilla is dead and Hux's self-torture is unrivaled by any of the finest torture technicians within the First Order. Struggling to cope and only a shadow of his former self, he finds himself on Tatooine at Kylo Ren's cryptic instruction; for what, he doesn't know. He tries to regain some sort of normality by breaking free of the tortuous hold of the shuttle but will the little village nearby help or hinder him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You asked for it. Here it is.  
> I'm still listening to Better Love by Hozier, it was still on repeat when I wrote this but holy fuck, does it suit!

_Say you'll remember me_

_Standing in a nice dress,_

_Staring at the sunset, babe_

_Red lips and rosy cheeks_

_Say you'll see me again_

_Even if it's just in your_

_Wildest dreams_

 

 

Days. Weeks. Months. Hux couldn’t decipher anymore. In real time, it had been three months since the destruction of Starkiller Base though to look at a clock or a calendar would remind him of how long he’d been without his precious Lucilla; something he had promised himself some time ago that would never happen. Against his better judgement, even with a great deal of hesitation, the redhead felt himself being pulled to Ren’s advice. And so the shuttle landed on Tatooine but it took him a fortnight alone to convince himself to leave the shuttle, petrified of what he would find. Or worse; if he would find nothing at all, only that he had been prey to a dark Jedi’s cruel sense of humour.

 

That first, hermetic fortnight had consisted of self-torture. He forced himself to watch the holonews, made himself scroll through the holonet, read the articles and listen to interviews with distraught families. Even more sickening was the official statement from the Arkanis Academy claiming they did not condone the existence of Starkiller, let alone what it did. They also claimed ignorance of the plan to destroy the Republic and denied any involvement in the ‘unfortunate incident’ and a ‘crime against the galaxy’ (his father’s hypocritical words). _Liars._ The ex-General thought vehemently. _Cowards._

 If there was anything that could take his mind off Lucilla (admittedly not for very long), it was his greatest failure: The destruction of Starkiller Base. Billions of units wasted, countless Stormtroopers killed, numerous staff lost. And of course…. Her. She was gone; leaving pain, heartbreak and disillusionment in her wake. Naturally, the guilt had already hit him; he pinpointed it to the third night on the planet, several hours before the sun rose. Denial had followed him before then; it was the Resistance that were responsible and he would plot revenge but waking in an empty bed with invisible blood on the sheets (they had been changed since Kylo passed out in them) was a call of responsibility and blame he couldn’t ignore.

 

Since then, he replayed those horrifying few seconds when he turned and walked away from the boulder clogged corridor. Everything in that mental recording was so vivid, he even caught himself standing in the limited floor space and attempting to reverse it; even half a step backwards would have been progress. But it didn’t change. It never did. He had (involuntarily) integrated the soundtrack of his beloved’s last moment to the background of the haunting memory and self-loathing decision; what he would have heard if he had been able to pass. And now he couldn’t shake it, he woke to it echoing in his mind and so many times he had checked the bed to ensure it was just a nightmare. More than once, he got up and checked the refresher as had become a habit on Crucival. His routine had become reliant on grief. Skipping meals had been the norm before Lucilla and it had done so again with her gone though he told himself she’d understand. Even his rigorous grooming had become neglected.

 

The General’s sleep (if it could be called that) was fitful and plagued with a looped sobbing since he touched down on Tatooine, even more so since the inevitable realization of his own hand in Lucilla’s death. It was not regimented as it once was; more a succumbing to exhaustion when he could no longer keep his eyes open. Why would he willingly return to a world of blackness where he couldn’t control what he saw and heard? And sometimes he did hear her. Not just the wailing and the screaming and the dull thumps against the door; those were commonplace. Rarer were the whispers, the disappointed sighs and the failed attempts at communication that broke his slumber with frustration. He often wondered if it was worth it to sleep in the vain hope that that night would be one where he would hear something other than the chilling usual. Would he be rewarded with that sweet taste of Coruscant he would give anything to hear again if he braved her last moment by choice? Terrified of the answer, Hux abstained for as long as he could until sleep took him forcefully.

 

How many oceans had he wept since she left? How many rivers had coated the floor of the shuttle and none of them for Starkiller or his life’s work? For her and only her. How many times had he cried himself weak and dehydrated? He couldn’t answer that, he’d lost count. And of all the places to be imprisoned, it seemed only fitting in punishment where he continuously found pieces of her from their period of sanctuary on Naboo. Something as simple as a raven hair on the sink, a dainty fingerprint on the mirror or a slender pin beside the bed turned up constantly almost on purpose; as if they had been given some life by her demise to make him suffer by placing themselves in his path. It worked. If he was mad enough to give a defeated kudos to inanimate objects, he would have conceded fair play. How much more torment could he take before he _did_ start to lose his mind? Had he already lost it? Was he in the process of it? There was only one way to prevent it or slow down the deterioration if it had already started: leave the shuttle.

 

* * *

 

 

It had been just shy of three months since he made the brave decision to leave the shuttle and embrace the unknown of the sweltering planet. He could only hope for answers and as luck would have it, his thoughtless touch down had been only fifteen minutes’ walk from the nearest town. What drew him there in the absence of constructive thinking, he wasn’t sure but he let it lead him. Every day was the same in the town of his incomprehensible choosing; he rose with the sun, the horrors that had awaited him at night had abated somewhat when he started to expand his surroundings. He washed, dressed and left as the village began to come to life, it instilled some sort of normality and routine that the hellish two weeks had deprived him of. He sat at the same outdoor table of the same café every morning, munching purposely on the cheapest thing on the menu; conserving funds was essential and consulting his bank account was out of the question if he wanted to remain hidden. Somehow, he managed to convince himself that his current existence was favourable to imprisonment or possible execution. Thankfully, the new beard helped him maintain a degree of anonymity.

 

Day in, day out for almost three months; the routine remained the same and nothing seemed to change. To someone who had been sent somewhere specifically, lack of unusual activity should have been a warning or at least a disappointment and while Hux knew and noticed this, he found himself unable to leave the town. Surely, it would be wiser to try somewhere else after such a long period of nothingness? No answers to questions he didn’t even have? Why was he able to justify sitting in the same inexpensive café, walking the same streets and observing the same people every day with no sign of a change or anything at all? While that question dogged him at regular intervals, he was unable to answer it, unable to justify his listless, repeated actions and unwilling to. Going with the flow was a nice change but sitting with his cheap pastry and his cheap caf also had an inexplicable twinge of purpose to it.

 

The more he watched from his outdoor seat, the more he saw. The continuous comings and goings of everyday life highlighted everything he had missed aboard Finalizer, Starkiller and even the Academy. But even here, little reminders had begun to creep in of all the things Lucilla would miss and he in turn would miss by her absence. Couples walking in the street hand in hand, he and Lucilla would never experience that. The children playing unfamiliar games, he swore then and there he would not pass on genes to someone who was not born of his beloved companion. The elderly making their way slowly down the sand covered road, he might live to that age but Lucilla was already gone. It was now beyond the realms of possibility for her hair to grey and her face to wrinkle.

 

Noticing the little quirks of humanity was one thing but Hux couldn’t ignore the prevalent slave culture that thrived on Tatooine. He pondered how many of these people were actually slaves and how many of them were free? Did they crave freedom? Did they know any better? He also saw things that some people probably chose not to see. Like the small group of girls being herded into a cantina across from the café in the early hours of the morning. None of them familiar but all looking frightened and riddled with dread. Maybe those around him chose to see past these girls, they assumed their purpose was their own but Hux saw it for what it was; after all, he had dealt with the aftermath. He had comforted it, held it, loved it.

 

With the first part of the ritual (breakfast), out of the way; Hux made his way into the heart of the town towards the market that popped up every day without fail. He walked from stall to stall, not looking at or for anything in particular but it was a valuable asset to prevent returning to the shuttle (and therefore, self-persecution) prematurely. His pace was leisurely, his gaze uncommitted to anything in particular; that is, until something caught his eye. It seemed to bob in and out of the crowd, hovering at one stall then onto the next with far more interest in the produce than he did. That behaviour wasn’t unusual at a market and certainly not enough to attract attention from a blow in, rather the colour of the cloak was enough to do that. Powder blue. He remembered it; the contrast with the pale skin, the way it was settled upon by kinks of black, how terrified eyes barely looked up from beyond it.

 

His pace picked up with his curiosity urgently piqued; the way it moved was the same, the height was perfect. Even the way the handle of the basket was gently gripped as if it could feel pain fell into line with the suddenly desperate workings of his mind. The early hour of the morning meant nothing to the shoppers clamouring the street, eager to get to the market before the best produce was gone and ordinarily, that wouldn’t have troubled the redhead. Now though, when he kept losing the intimate shade, they were a hindrance. Frantically, he searched over heads and around forms of different shapes and sizes, he grew more worrisome that he would lose it and never see it again. So when it surfaced again, flawlessly and gracefully, he refused to take the chance of losing it again.

 

 _“Lucilla.”_ No response. The street was too noisy; she didn’t hear him. He resorted to shoving a male of an unknown species, ignoring the indignant roar of protest that rumbled after him; an action he knew he would need to repeat to get to her. **_“Lucilla!”_** The blue figure continued on, unhearing. His pushing became more frantic, eliciting more scandalized and outraged responses as he cleared his own path but the crowd seemed to grow around her again and again; swallowing her. Mind in overdrive, heart pounding, chest heaving; Hux finally realized why he was here. Why Kylo Ren had sent him here (he could examine the Knight’s generosity another time) and why he had waited excruciatingly for months. As if time had cut itself into ribbons, severing out several moments of chase; a shaking hand closed around the blue clad shoulder and turned it.

 

The urge to cry again was immense as bile rose in his throat. Looking back at him was an exceptionally confused looking woman in her fifties with blonde hair and brown eyes. Not Lucilla. He offered no apology; he simply stumbled back a few anguished steps, unable to tear his eyes from the face that had unknowingly betrayed him. It made no sense; it couldn’t have been anyone but her. Yet this imposter had tricked him! How?! How could it not be her?! Her movements, her height, her care with her basket and that sweet curiosity as she peered around each stall…. The sickened agony must have shown itself in his face as this woman looked back at him with curious sympathy but before she could voice her concern for the flame haired stranger, he had backed off enough to bring himself to turn away.

 

Making his way through the market in the opposite direction wasn’t so much of a chore this time. His feet propelled him automatically with the rest of his body on autopilot, retracing his steps without realizing it. Hope and purpose withered in his chest and if he had more control on his mind, he would have scolded himself for even allowing himself to think it was even possible. **She’s dead.** He told himself harshly, refusing any sort of coddling gentility. **She’s dead and it’s your fault. You left her there to die alone. You’re the coward, not your father. You should have faced death with her, not run with your tail between your legs. You didn’t deserve her, you didn’t love her-**

The shuttle welcomed and bred those hateful thoughts. For hours, he lay curled up on the bed as his improvements whittled themselves away to nothing. Each tear spilled stung as a reminder and every effort was made to restrain his hand from the holo nearby of his precious Lucilla before her enslavement. Yet, that feeling, that strange pull to the town remained. No matter how he tried to convince himself, something forbade him from crawling to the pilot’s seat and leaving. Something was keeping him there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? Did you think you were getting her back?


	25. Blaster to the Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the humiliation of the market still fresh, Hux exiles himself to the shuttle once again until he cannot take anymore. He finds himself in an unfamiliar part of town where the purpose of his presence soon becomes clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback, people!!

_I once kneeled in shaking thrill_

_I chase the memory of it still, of every chill_

_Chided by that silence of a hush sublime_

_Blind to the purpose of the brute divine_

_But you were mine_

_Staring in the blackness at some distant star_

_The thrill of knowing how alone we are, unknown we are_

_To the wild and to the both of us_

_I confessed the longing I was dreaming of._

 

The shuttle had become a double edged sword. It had become a place of imprisonment and a place of shelter. No matter which way he turned on or off the ship, he was tormented. On the ship, her memory dogged his every footstep; even to close his eyes was an unsafe venture with unpredictable results. In the village or outside it; he was recognized as the madman who had shoved his way through the market, roaring at the top of his lungs with the target of one woman in particular. At least he only stood out to the dwellers of the desert village for that and not his title or his crime. But was it worth it? Was it worth it to endure the stares and the murmurs as he walked the streets rather than another bout of torturous seclusion? His confidence had been knocked and when he had retreated again, the guilt resumed its persistent clawing in the sour comfort of where she had once been; the bed, the refresher, the co-pilot seat. And yet, he still found it impossible to convince himself to leave. If he could leave, he could break the vicious indecision in choosing his poison; the shuttle or the village. He could abandon both but something wouldn’t let him, something held him and out of frustration, he needed to find out what.

 

Choices where one option is as lethal as the other can render one procrastinating in making the decision and opting to wallow in something in between that’s just as damaging. If anyone knew that, it was General Hux. Did he stay in the brutal safety of the shuttle or try to ease his suffering by attempting to negotiate the village again? What did he have to lose? If he remained, he’d lose his sanity. If he left…. There couldn’t be much worse than losing his sanity for a logical being like Orion Hux, he’d rather be dead than mad. And so it was decided with hesitation lurking in the background: He would return to the village.

 

 

* * *

 

 

His old life on Starkiller and Finalizer dictated routine, even Lucilla had fallen into it. Gods, why did everything remind him of her? Even something as vague as routine dragged up unwelcome feelings of defencelessness. _If you feel defenceless, imagine how she felt._ Those self-accusatory thoughts were more at home on the shuttle but when he braved the first few steps into the sand, he brushed it aside easier with the promise of change. Four days had passed since the incident at the market and isolation had been his solution but no more. He had tried to retain the pattern by returning the day after but whispers and glares drove him back. He now realized it was either the shuttle at the mercy of his own mind or the benign gossip of the villagers, he chose the latter. Now more than ever he was more determined to find the pull to this random place.

 

He ignored the strange look of the waitress who served him and granted him his usual caf and cheap breakfast pastry; no doubt she had heard as well, the community was small and close knit, he doubted there was no one who didn’t know. The usual seat at the usual time of the morning while the market began to rise from the sand, he would be one of the first browsers; he always was. The morning became the afternoon with the sweltering sun rising higher in the sky; as much as he loved and took great pride in his uniform, he was silently grateful for the cream linen shirt and the airy green trousers to keep him cool. The ritual was the same as before he came dangerously close to exposure amongst the crowded stalls that day which disheartened him but despite the throbbing heat, Hux kept walking. It happened so slowly, the change of his surroundings, that he almost didn’t realize how heads no longer turned when he passed, how conversations remained unaltered by his brief presence; he didn’t notice that he wasn’t noticed.

 

When the General finally looked up, the surroundings of the taunting town had melted in favour of a darker place that chilled him, despite never being there or seeing it before. There were no cafes like where he had his breakfast on a daily basis, there was a market but not like the one in the main square where the produce was legal. Unnerved but curious, Orion kept on with uncertain steps as he approached the ominous stalls with perverse items on display, each one more sinister than the last. Weapons varying in size and range adorned one stall, all illegal he assumed. On the next, he felt his breakfast rise in his throat when faced with a number of jars, each one dedicated to a different organ; some human, some not. He moved on from it quickly to another where the corpses of diverse species of animals hung with parts missing, no doubt unlawfully hunted and dismembered as lucky charms and unproven medicine.

 

He didn’t have much to take but, of course, the newcomer was watched by a number of pickpockets and con artists. The redhead stood out like a sore thumb but for the most part, he was ignored; it seemed it was unspoken code that no one was seen at this particular market. In something of a morbid curiosity, his feet paced and his eyes scanned the stalls and their disgusting wares; needless to say he had no intention of buying anything or even lingering too long on a specific stall should he be noticed. Aside from ordering his breakfast every morning and the mistaken identity of that unfortunate woman, he had not spoken to anyone on Tatooine. That was about to change.

 

 _“See anything of interest to you, good sir?”_ The malevolent purr of a one eyed old man made Hux look up, almost alarmed at being addressed in such a foreboding place; it was polite but menacing all the same.

“I… No, thank you. Just…. Browsing.” Fighting to keep his voice even and confident, Orion nodded his thanks and went to move from the stall.

 _“Are you alone, sir?”_ A bone of contention. The question seemed harmless and he convinced himself that in the best interest of his safety that rudeness would not be wise. A direct result of that was a half-hearted saunter closer to the stall where the elderly male watched him like a predator.

“I am. I lost my companion some time ago, I can’t even begin to recall how long.”

_“Sudden?”_

“Very much so, yes.”

 _“Ah well, you need company then. A man like you shouldn’t be alone.”_ In the many slots underneath the beaten wood of the counter where fresh stock waited to replace the old; the man poked around, muttering to himself while he looked for something specific. Unsure if he should take the distraction to slip away or not, Hux’s decision was stalled and rendered invalid when the man straightened (as much as possible but not fully) and stretched out a withered hand, holding out something for the younger man to take. Intrigued, the General accepted the item he then realized was a piece of paper. On it was some alien scrawl that Hux could not understand and the confusion must have shown in his face. _“You see that tavern over there?”_ That beady eye settled on a worn building in the corner, causing the newcomer to turn around and follow his gaze. _“Take that, show it to the whoever is on guard. He’ll grant you entry and take it back. But remember…. You were never there.”_

He took that as his cue to leave. He stopped several metres from the stand to examine the card, it was a ticket to illicit and illegal activity, no doubt. Paper and cardboard were rare, disposable. Technology like his data pad was lasting and the way of the future but…. Trackable. This, however, wasn’t. No fingerprinting, no user interface, anonymity almost guaranteed. Who would have thought using something so primitive and obsolete would be the key? And it would be reused and reused. Who knew how many had used it before him and how many after him? The distraction of the piece of paper masked its implication. The man spoke of company, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. How long was she gone? What would she have said if she knew he indulged in someone else for an hour, an evening or a night? Swallowing, he tried not to dwell on it and somehow, it didn’t feel as wrong as it probably should have. The male of a species he didn’t recognize stood on guard at the door as promised and snatched the ticket when it was held out to him.

 

 **“Downstairs.”** He was told with a growl and Hux obeyed. The bite of reluctance was almost physical as he paused at the top of the stairs; the steps were swallowed by darkness save for the licking of mounted torches that only seemed to stretch so far. Something pushed him mentally to continue and before he could question it, one step was followed by another and then another and another; down into the shadowed belly of the beast.

 

* * *

 

 

Hux wasn’t sure what he expected when he got to the bottom of the steps though the small stage, the scatterings of tables and chairs with several males speaking in hushed tones and the low lighting; it fitted into his assumption of a gentleman’s club. Again, sceptical of mixing, Hux found himself a table in the corner, out of the way of everyone else and sat but unsure of what to expect. He presumed a show? A performer of some sort? A strip tease, perhaps? His surroundings certainly suggested something of a seedy nature. Maybe it stretched to a brothel too? The smell of smoke was unignorably strong and stuck to everything, the source being a number of men who carelessly sucked on cigarras with little regard for those around them. The security was heavy; several burly males prowled the worn and stained maroon carpet with the intention of keeping patrons in line but something was yet to happen. His attention diverted to the stage; small, wooden, empty. This establishment must have been underfunded though what could have been expected if entry was free and only at the discretion of an old man at a stall?

 

Hux’s expectations began to shift and his features fall into concern when the men around him started to take to their seats and the lights above the stage flickered into life. Instead of an attractive female taking to the stage, the wood creaked under the feet of a middle aged man, perhaps ten years older than Hux himself. He was almost out of place in the sleazy surroundings dressed in his finery that Orion couldn’t even begin to price. Perhaps he was the club owner? Maybe he was introducing a new act? The ice of the redhead’s eyes flickered to his anonymous companions and they appeared to have settled as if this man was the one they waited for, not a scantily clad young lady.  

 

 **“Gentlemen!”** The booming confidence and almost friendliness bounced off every surface to the adoring hollers and whoops of the men in the audience, only Hux remained silent; something wasn’t right. **“My friends! You won’t believe the pieces I have for you here tonight! I have exotic creatures from all corners of the galaxy, all species and types! Dargo-“** He seemed to address one man in particular, as if he knew them all by name. **“I got what you asked for, I hope you’ll be pleased!”** He paused for a moment and rubbed his chin, as if to keep his loyal followers in suspense to hang on his every word. **“A few months ago, something magnificent was given to me, I just couldn’t pass it up. I paid a fair price for it but when you see it, I think you’ll agree that what I’m asking for it is more than fair. Truth be told, I’m tempted to keep it for myself! But I’ll tell you more about that later. The usual rules apply; you know what to do! Happy bidding!”** The introduction was short and sweet but the charisma of the male seemed to be known to the audience. Hux was still ignorant of the nature of this gathering. Bidding? An auction of some sort? When the screaming started from somewhere off stage, the terrible reality began to sink in and only then did Hux realize where he was and what he was attending: A slave auction.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The urge to get up and run to the stairs seemed to bellow in his ears but Hux couldn’t move. Frozen in horror and stuck to the chair by some invisible force, the first lifeform was dragged on; a rather small Twi'lek, possibly only still in her teens. Immediately, the room erupted. Roared bids flew towards the stage, while the unnamed male listened with an eyebrow cocked and a smirk playing on his lips; presumably he was waiting for an offer he liked. Meanwhile, the little Twi’lek had crouched down on the stage and to look at her was to put a meaning to the word ‘petrified’.

 

**“Come on, gents! I’m asking for four thousand units! She’s young, she’s fit, still intact, admittedly she’s unspayed but mention my name to Bakop just outside of town and he’ll slice the price! That goes for all but one of what I have tonight so come on! Four thousand, let’s go!”**

How could Hux not drawn the disturbing parallel? How could he watch that tiny Twi’lek and not feel a squirm of pity when every move she made was restricted by the chain around her neck? Had that been Lucilla at some point? Even the outfit was familiar; the two strips, one covering the front and one covering the back with a brass plate secured over each breast. Perhaps it was the light, but Orion could have sworn he saw the light speckling of bruises dusting the Twi’lek’s pale blue skin, her sobbing was almost drowned out by the bidding; as if this circus wasn’t already horrendous enough. More disturbing though, why couldn’t be bring himself to leave? He would have preferred to believe himself above such a practice, as a more prideful human being than shouting a price for another sentient creature like cattle at a market, a comparison Lucilla had once made.

 

The Twi’lek was heaved off the stage when the price of four thousand units was met and even exceeded for her new master to examine her; the whimpering didn’t seem to bother him though it seemed she didn’t dare do anything that might change her fate for the better. The next female was a Devaronian. Covered from head to toe in white fur and while she was slightly more dignified than the Twi’lek, the edges of fear in her were undeniable. The bidding exploded again and with the louder they got and the closer to her desired price, the Devaronian began to unravel. She too was whisked to the edge of the stage and down the rickety steps to be inspected and the pattern seemed to continue though Hux had sunk too deep into revulsion but incapable of moving to watch anymore. The ones he had seen, the Twi’lek and the Devaronian were both female, small in stature and rigid with terror; he could only assume the rest would be the same. He sat there in a world of his own for an unspecified length of time, disgusted by his innocence and his logic that had led him there.

 

 **“Gentlemen, I promised you something special.”** The clean cut and dapper male left a goading pause while he paced the stage, almost as if searching for the appropriate words. The teasing worked as the males around him appeared to be even more on edge, having abstained from purchasing sooner to see what the ‘something magnificent’ was and if it would tickle their fancy. Hux lifted himself from his stupor, did he dare look up and therefore intensify his abhorrence? The atmosphere in the room became heavy with intrigue and anticipation as the male revelled in the effect he had cast on the room. **“A very generous, anonymous albeit expensive donor came to me with something irresistible some months ago. Beautiful, shy, broken….”** He waited and relished the excited silence that followed, the power of that alone inflated an already swollen ego as they hung on his every breath and casual step. **“And the only known survivor of Starkiller Base, supposedly the property of the General.”**

 

As if listening to something under water, he couldn’t be sure he heard it all. A lethargic blink and an inclination of his head to the stage; as if in slow motion, a flurry of black curls was shoved under the spotlight. The accompanying alabaster body hit the floor with a thud and an agonized shriek; for a moment, he froze. The eerie clinking of the chains around her neck and wrists seemed to be the only thing he could hear, as if his eyes and ears had zoned in on her and only her, excluding the predictably riled roars. The outfit was the same as the others he had seen before he tuned out, sitting there in despair until now. As if his system had suddenly been jolted awake by being dumped in icy water, he knew that sobbing; it had plagued his sleep and now it dogged his wakefulness. With his seat too far back from the stage, it seemed irrelevant that he couldn’t see her face. The hair, the stature, the terrified whimpering; he knew it all so well but it couldn’t be….. _It couldn’t be Lucilla._

 

Dumbfounded and motionless, the bidding happened without him even though he was surrounded by it and in the thick of it. All he could do was watch the terror-stricken creature cowering on the stage and while all the factors pointed to his beloved’s survival, he couldn’t accept it. The man had said months…. Who knew only her what she had been subjected to since Starkiller exploded? How had she gotten off? Guilt rose like bile in his throat again when it occurred to him that maybe…. Just maybe, she would have been better off as he had believed her: Dead. As if something had snapped within him, he looked around in desperation as the bidders attempted to drown each other out and end it as quickly as they could with their own bid. He had little to bid and whatever he did have, it wouldn’t be enough but he _couldn’t_ leave her again.

 

 **“Twenty thousand, gents! I won’t accept a unit less! She’s already spayed, no excuses!”** _Twenty thousand…._ Over half her original price. **“But I wouldn’t put it near her mouth without a blaster to her face! Sometimes there are little sparks of life!”** Sickeningly flabbergasted by the throwaway comment that the others seemed to find rip-roaringly amusing, Hux scrambled to his feet that didn’t seemed to want to work. Legs like jelly and his stomach barely containing its contents, he gripped the table for support while his helpless mind tried to calculate his options. He couldn’t bid, he had nothing to do so with and even if he did, panic set in when the bidding drew to a close with exclamations of disappointment and outrage. The General skirted the table with the edge of it still in his sweating grasp and he barely reminded himself to let it go but his latest glance to the stage rendered him even more disturbed than before. He looked up just in time to see her on her knees, her face in her hands and the chained collar around her neck being mercilessly yanked to be hauled away; she would no doubt be punished for the half-hearted resistance she tried to put up.

 

 _“Lucilla…..”_ Nothing else seemed to be able to cross his lips. His tongue would only form one reverent word and it was: _“Lucilla.”_ The seedy pilgrimage between chairs and tables began as a man obsessed and heartbroken attempted to navigate the club towards the stage without a plan. Autopilot had worked for him before, getting him from one place to another; in fact, it had gotten him to the second market that had gotten him here. But to move mindlessly with so much at stake could only end in more devastation. His only option now was to follow and wait for an opportunity. And opportunity for what, he couldn’t be certain but when she was taken and lead away, he took the chance and followed quietly. Slowly and silently, he skulked after the milky, exposed back and tried to ignore the trembling and sniffling that grated at him.

 

Like the staircase that had brought him in, the tunnel out to a landing strip above was dark save for the intermittent torches secured to the grimy, damp walls. The light at the end appeared to be miles away but the unmistakeable sounds of chains and bare feet turning up earth with every step combined plucked at his indignation – his precious Lucilla being subjected to such degrading treatment would enflame his wrath. His listlessness was wearing off with every micro-sound from the female ahead of him until he could take no more; his advantage came to a head in Lucilla’s new ‘master’ being too taken with his purchase to realize they were being stalked.

 

With a sudden burst of energy, white hot jealousy and aggression, Hux broke into a bound. In seemingly one movement, he shoved Lucilla aside to a brief scream, grabbed the chain between her neck and her master’s hand and before he could turn around to investigate, felt the length of metal links closing in around his throat. Everything seemed to stop bar the tightening of Hux’s hands, how he wound the chains around them and pulled and pulled until the blood started to seep, the eyes started to bulge and the last gasping, scrambled breath was extinguished. With a swallow his adversary would never take again, Hux let the chain fall loose and for a moment, he almost forgot why he was there, why he had killed someone literally with his bare hands. Stepping away without a tickle of remorse, he turned again as if haunted by the last time he thought her saw her; he’d never forget those eyes. But there she was, recoiled and looking up at him as terrified as when she was dragged on stage.

 

 _“Lucilla….”_ In an instant, he’d dropped to his knees with a complete overhaul in his demeanour and crawled agonizingly on stones and grit until he was even with her. Her frail face was gently grasped, one soothing hand cradling each cheek with care while relief fluttered unabated in his chest. The pair seemed to stare at each other; after months apart and tortured separately in different ways, it couldn’t possibly be real, to be reunited in the most random of places and under the most remarkable circumstances. It took her a moment of despairingly searching his face and her name softly, repeatedly whispered for her to remember, for her to recognize him. The beautiful incredulity came when her comprehension shocked her system and the swift swing of her arms around his neck in the most blissful pressure he believed would never grace him again.

 

 _“I’m here….”_ The crack in his voice deepened at the first thankful heave of her chest against his, as she subsided into the first bout of sobs since she left the cavern. _“I’m here, you’re alright….”_ Her grip tightened as his arm slipped under her knees and lifted her, despite the strain on his weakened frame. Her weeping continued all the way up the tunnel and out of sheer astonished gratitude, he didn’t comfort her further; purely to let her express and safely exhibit whatever trepidation that had almost happened. The walk back to the shuttle passed without notice and Lucilla’s weight (which was significantly less than he remembered) was feather light in his urgency to get her away from a potentially dreadful situation (not that he couldn’t be assured that what she had already endured hadn’t been dreadful).

 

She was laid on _their_ bed where she unravelled all over again and only then would he begin to see the extent of the trauma. He left her for a maximum of a minute while he hurried to the pilot’s console, set the coordinates to anywhere but there and waited for the stability of take-off. With that secured, he traipsed back to her, almost guiltily and curled up with her back to his chest and a comforting arm draped across her waist. The smell of berries had long since died when he nestled his nose apologetically into her hair but it was of little concern to him, it was almost petty to notice it and dwell on it for any length of time; not when she was like this. Every defeated sniffle fractured him and whittled him, even more frustrating when there seemed to be little course of action he could take when her responses were so minimal.

 

 _“You’re safe now.”_ He tried to affirm to her though he didn’t believe the edge in his own voice. Their future was uncertain; he would be hounded now and by association, she would be a target. Even with all that in mind, he continued with as much conviction as he could muster. _“I promise I won’t leave you again.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well..... Was she better off living or dead?


	26. If You Love It....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucilla begins to speak with an awful lot to say, Hux is reduced to what he was on Tatooine and an unbearable choice is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is hard reading.

__

_“When the sun has set, no candle can replace it.”_

_― George R.R. Martin_

 

Lucilla lay silent for hours. She had always been subtle and placid, opting to wordlessly curl up in her master’s arms (or at his feet earlier in their relationship) but now, it grated relentlessly at him. The gaps between her blinks were so drawn out that anytime he checked on her, it was as if she wasn’t blinking at all, as if her eyelids refused to work, as if to lower them for even the slightest second would transport her back to where she had come from. He had left her to communicate with Finalizer but with each worried visit, he expected to find her resting or on the brink of it but every time found her unnervingly staring at the same direct spot on the wall across from the bed. Her body was frailer than he remembered and the degrading outfit certainly didn’t help but to undress her would be to put her into an even worse state without doubt; his only solution was to drape his dusty, retired greatcoat over her like a blanket.

 

Her breathing had regulated itself, her eyes had dried, the sobs had died but the stillness was more than he could take. Guiltily, he shuffled into the room for the umpteenth time but this time, he allowed the door to close behind him. In a less regimented habit that he had developed since the end of Starkiller, he gripped the back of his boot with the tip of the other and wiggled his foot out of its confines. He repeated the action with the other foot until he padded only sock-clad to the other side of the bed. Hesitating, he openly waited for a reaction to his lengthened presence and when there was none, he decided to try regardless. Ever so carefully, Hux’s legs swung up onto the bed and his body hauled the short distance until his chest met Lucilla’s back.

 

To a despair he didn’t realize he had until he met her, Orion’s stomach tightened with dejection when he felt her stiffen but still, he crossed his arm over her waist in a hopefully comforting gesture. The light pressing of his lips to her shoulder stirred nothing, nor did the nuzzle of his nose to the nape of her neck: Both wordless offerings of _I’m sorry. I’m so sorry._ Not for a moment, at least. It took a minute of watching her dolefully before she became aware of his presence and when she finally did, he felt his heart crack when she slowly pulled away as much as the limited bed space would allow. At a loss, Hux didn’t follow her or try to impose on her, just wallowed in the feeling of well-earned blame that now lay physically in front of him; it was a disguised mercy that he couldn’t see her face. Perhaps his first question wasn’t so well thought out.

 

_“What happened to you?”_

For a while, nothing happened. It was as if a deflector had come down between them. In a brief, shallow moment of relief; Hux hoped she might have been lulled to sleep at last. Instead and determined to unwittingly prove him wrong; Lucilla’s first significant movement in an agonizingly long time occurred. Slowly, dragging; the dark haired darling hauled herself up into a slouched sitting position at the side of the bed. The greatcoat fell away to uncover the pale, creamy skin he had missed so much; the skin he only now realized had not escaped unmarked. Decorated with scratches, lacerations and bruises; it was clear she had endured recent cruelty and violence. While every effort had been made to ensure any signs of abuse had been healed before her sale by Zedar on Coruscant; it seemed the slave traders on Tatooine were not so considerate to either their clients or their slaves. He waited for something, anything. Anything that might suggest that his little dove wasn’t damaged or harmed but a simple look at her would have told him she was both and more. Convinced that he would be given no answer or even acknowledgement, Hux settled himself in utter dishevelment and responsibility until a heart rendering breath made him sit up like an electric Bantha prod to the backside.

 

_“Leave me be.”_

If she thought he wouldn’t follow her, the damage must have been deeper than bodily and emotionally. Uncertainly, Lucilla found her feet and began to slink from the confines of the tiny bedroom while Hux watched her, downcast and at a loss for any pathetic defence of himself and his actions or lack thereof. When the bedroom slid back to allow her to exit, Hux scrambled from the bed and with legs longer than hers, managed to catch her arm before she left with a gentle, pleading hand. Lucilla, however, was not so gentle in her response. In fact, it was most uncharacteristic but what else could the redhead expect? Well, he certainly didn’t expect her to rear back and strike like a viper.

 

The _clatter_ that met his ears was sharp. The force was strong, the pain was instantaneous and followed the sound immediately while the stars before his eyes blocked his vision. Clutching his cheek and staring at the floor where her swipe had left him, all her could hear was the borderline sniffles; a mixture of devastation and absolute _rage._ Her palm and her fingers tingled with a strange, numbing pain as she stared him down with a heaving chest, as if daring him to interact with her again. His eyes left the floor and caught hers; those soulful sapphires he had gladly woken to every morning were now clouded: Petrified, broken, traumatized and furious. The material guarding her lower quarters swung with exaggeration as she tore from the room and into the even greater restriction of the bathroom where she believed he wouldn’t venture after her.

 

But she was wrong. When he recovered, the once great General of the First Order boldly followed his lover with concern, a scarlet cheek and little fear of having the other one pinkened as well. The door was the same as it had been on Naboo; the soft weeps could be heard through the mobile slab of metal and only then did Hux question the sense to intrude upon her. But the need clawed at him; the need to be with her, the need to hold and comfort her and it all cancelled out the fear of being lashed out at again. Deciding not to take the mild assault as a deterrent, he wouldn’t waste time and energy by pleading with her to open the door. Instead, he overrode the control panel as he had threatened her once before.

 

The sight before him was pitiful and heart-breaking. Seated on the closed lid of the toilet; Lucilla’s ivory fingers had knotted mercilessly into her hair, seizing the roots in such a way that she _had_ to be hurting herself. Her eyes were hidden by the bottoms of her palms and the flats of her wrists, almost digging them into her sockets. Her chest rattled with almost silent, wheezing sobs while her entire body trembled like the delicate leaves of Arkanis; a comparison he never thought he’d make or ever wanted to make. Should he approach her? Try and soothe her? He tried but the result was more or less the same as before. Penitent, his knees found the floor with little regard for hygiene and tried to push himself into her line of vision before prying her hands from her face.

 

 _“Lucilla.”_ The forlorn plea roused frustrated gasps while she tried to wrestle her hands free but Hux was determined to hold them, anything that might ease her a little, even if it did take time. _“Please…. What did they do to you?”_ In another bout of overcome violence and a fraught scream of effort, Lucilla’s feet snapped together and aimed (successfully) for her master’s stomach. Winded and forcing back a mouthful of bile, a thin sheet of material was the only thing between the redhead’s bare back and the icy, sanitary steel of the bathroom floor. Without too much time to worry about himself, he moved quite swiftly when he realized Lucilla was no longer sitting and so pulled himself into a sitting position beside the sink.

 

 _“What do you **think** they did to me?!”_ He had heard of Arkanian Dragons. He believed as a little boy that these beasts could breathe fire though as he got older and common sense prevailed, he began to believe less and less in such beings. But the closest he would probably ever get to one was his beloved Lucilla just now. Her lungs drew her shallow breaths and forced out more at a struggle. Still scarred from her consistent wailing, her lip tremored from trying to restrain her emotions long enough and all while she stood over him; trying to cope with this new sensation of fury and rampage. _“What do you **think** they did to a pretty, masterless slave?!”_

_“Lucilla….”_ The questions appeared to be rhetorical but only half the present people seemed to know that. Did he want to know? Did he want to think about it? The word was in his head but he wouldn’t allow himself to focus on it. He focused on everything but that word. He thought he had endured torture; he had had sleepless nights, aimless wonderings and the echoes of her ‘last moment’ lodged in his brain….. But he had physically been unharassed, to say she had experienced the opposite was an outrageous understatement. Unable and probably unwilling to answer, Hux choked out some sort of noise of helpless apology that, judging by the burning sapphires, was not good enough. She was slowly losing her grip, slowly losing her ability to contain herself and ultimately face him. She started to unravel when her lips started to quake and her eyes began to refill.

 

 _“What do you **think your father….** **DID TO ME….** to assess my resale value?!” _ Again, unwilling to answer, Hux remained in guilty silence. When she swept past him, he opted to ignore the pain in his gut and crawl out after her. If exiting the bathroom on his hands and knees was not a show of submission, nothing was. If she had even the slightest inkling of how to land the ship, Hux knew she would have done so and been gone before he could even grapple to his feet; something he barely managed to do. For now, his only saving grace was her years of captivity that had prevented her from ever learning such a basic skill. With that in both their minds, Lucilla quietly resumed her seated place on the bed as if none of the physical, mental or emotional attacks had just happened. He took the misleading docility as an opportunity.

 

_“Little dove, I-“_

**_“DON’T YOU EVER CALL ME THAT AGAIN!!”_** The snap was so sudden and so vicious as she rounded on him that Hux physically recoiled from the sheer venom every syllable was laced with; something he never believed her capable of. In an instant, she was on her feet again and he regretted following her once more while the ruthless barrage continued and her emotions just cascaded. **_“DON’T YOU EVER LET ME THINK I MEANT SOMETHING TO YOU!! YOU’RE A LIAR!! YOU’RE A MURDERER!! I KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO HOSNIAN PRIME!! I KNOW THERE WERE CHILDREN ON THOSE PLANETS! HOW DARE YOU TARNISH ME WITH YOUR VILE AGENDA!! YOU’RE DISGUSTING!!”_** Another breakdown ensued after the outburst but he didn’t dare touch her, nor approach her or try and calm her. He deserved it; every word and he deserved it from her so he let it wash over him and seep into every blameful pore.

 

There were so many questions, so many answers, so many things he needed to tell her…. None of which she wanted to hear and could he blame her? Should he try and tell her anyway? Should he try and lay himself barer than he had before in a humiliating bid to make her see that he was sorry? Did sorry cut it though? ‘Sorry’ wouldn’t un-beat her, ‘sorry’ wouldn’t unmolest her, ‘sorry’ wouldn’t heal the unbearable stab of abandonment to something worse than death.

 

 _“I need you to tell me what to do.”_ The swirling undercurrents of disheartenment and utter emotional anguish were difficult to ignore but Lucilla seemed to manage that just fine. As if she had cried herself out of caring, her response was dispassionate and unsurprisingly cold.

 

_“Let me go. Leave me on some inhabited planet and never let me enter your twisted mind again.”_

_“No.”_ The resolute reply was met with a boiling look of (and it was difficult for him to process such a look from her) pure hatred. Even to utter the words revolted to him to no end but he would try anything, _anything_ to keep her with him. _“You belong to me. I am your master and I am not releasing you.”_

 

 _“You are not my master.”_ The stannic, calculated retort was startlingly uncharacteristic but nothing seemed like her anymore, the cruel stare cut into him even more. There seemed to be no traces of his darling companion left but he was determined to keep her all the same that by some miracle, she would return to him as her usual, doting self. _“You stole me. You killed my master and you stole me like a common thief, not an honourable man.”_ Lucilla found her feet and added a demanding prowl to her now dangerous and callous demeanour until she was face to face with the man she loved to deliver more verbal savagery. _“And I would rather have stayed with him to be a piece of property for the rest of my, more than likely, short life than be subjected to someone who gave all the signs he loved me but decided the best way to keep me in my place was not to prove it when it mattered most.”_

_“I do-“_

_“Liar.”_ The definitive curl of her lip as the cutting word was spat made him flinch and she relished it. _“You never **loved** me. You loved what I did for you, you loved what I made you feel but you didn’t love **me.** If you did, I wouldn’t have been dragged out of your quarters by my hair.” _

_“I tried….”_

_“I tried as well. Tried to push them off and do you know what they did? They upgraded my collar to a New Mandalorian shock collar and proceeded to do what they liked with me. Before I was sold on, that is.”_ Hux didn’t have an answer or a comfort to that terrible anecdote and the more she whittled him, the more he felt himself crumbling like he had when he lost her, reputation be damned.

 

_“I tried to get to you…. My master… Kylo Ren….”_

_“And there it is. The ultimate insult. You chose to save the man you utterly despise over me, the one you wanted a family with. Or was that a lie too?”_

_“No! It wasn’t-!”_

_“You wouldn’t even die with me like you doomed me to do. Coward.”_

_“I had no choice…”_

_“You left me to die alone in your quarters, despite everything you told me!”_

_“I’m sorry…”_

_“I would rather have died. I would rather have been killed than subjected to what I was subjected to!”_

_“I know…. And I thought of nothing else….”_

_“I did try that, you know. I did try to die but they caught me.”_ Hux pushed a hand through his unusually long and untamed hair but withdrew it quickly to wipe his eyes, an action that seemed to have affected Lucilla since hers started to fill again by the raw emotion of everything she had survived. Barely. _“I could see why Aleen and the others favoured it! It was easier than being degraded and used for the pleasure of someone else! And with that done, I would rather have been unceremoniously tossed into a sarlacc pit than forced to do the disgusting things I was forced to do!”_ Orion didn’t know why but she allowed him to touch her arm or maybe she didn’t notice. He stroked it through his own sniffles and hers, it didn’t make sense how it could all go so wrong.

 

_“I do love you.”_

_“I don’t care.”_

_“Please…. Don’t leave me.”_

_“You don’t deserve me!”_

_“I never have but regardless-“_

_“No. You will let me disembark and you will **never** try to find me again, do you understand me?!”_ What could he do? If she was so steadfast in securing her release, how could he make her stay? He couldn’t. Eyes locked onto one patch of her alabaster arm, he ignored hers boring into him. His strokes remained; gentle and benign but with the devastating realization that he was mentally recording her for when he resumed his lonely existence without her.

 

 _“I understand.”_ He swallowed briefly but was unwilling to cease his genial caresses just yet, fearful that he didn’t have enough to remember when he would lie in bed, pining. _“We’re near Coruscant. I’ll let you off there.”_ No thanks were exchanged, only a rough seizing of his chin to make him look at that beautiful, disdained face.

 

 _“You father held me against his desk. He pinned my hands above my head to render me helpless. No doubt he has bragged to his colleagues how he reduced his son’s whore to abasement, the same one he was told he would call Empress.”_ That deadly, pregnant pause was met with dread. He didn’t want her to continue, didn’t want to hear what had been thrust upon her but it wasn’t about him. _“He **made** me denounce you. He **made** me open my legs. Your father **raped me** for taking you away; to punish me for poisoning your mind against him and what he wanted you to do.”_ Hux’s eyes still leaked and it took strong, dragging inhales to keep the mucus in his nose but his mouth was dry. She didn’t release his chin, just jostled it to renew the eye contact he wasn’t sure he wanted to have. _“And I want that image to stay with you. For the **rest. of. your. life.”** _ Only then did she relinquish her grip to turn away without another glance back. All she wanted to do now was to find a place to be away from him on the tiny shuttle until they reached Coruscant.


	27. Prompted by a Holo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux lays himself bare to Lucilla in a last minute attempt to make her stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Difficult reading.

How? How was he going to do this? Was it even possible? Was it conceivable to let her go all over again? The first time…. It had been an accident. A horrible, traumatic and stomach-turning accident. He had coped; barely but coped nonetheless when he had no choice. The pain had begun to numb over time but that awful blame would always follow him when he remembered she wouldn’t be coming back.

 

But she did. By some miracle he wasn’t certain whether to praise or curse, she came back. Broken, violated and dead in a different, terrible way; arguably a worse way. She said herself she would have preferred it, he tried not to flinch when he recalled how blatantly she recounted trying to die and being prevented from doing so; all to make him _feel it_.

 

The General shifted in his seat again, the only way to temporarily ignore the itching uselessness growing in him as the shuttle piloted itself. The distance between them was a few feet and a durasteel door and every time he turned around, he hoped she would be standing there but was yet to see her do so.

 

For the umpteenth time, he took his com from his pocket and stared at it. It was the first step that he found himself unable to take. There were too many variables that depended on him putting that com in his pocket for the last time and not doing the right thing. She didn’t know he knew what he knew. He had made the mistake of telling her Coruscant was nearby, it was only natural she would head straight for the Undercity but it was impossible to tell what she would find.

 

Could he _really_ do it though? Believing her dead and helpless was one thing, he would have had no choice other than to move on. But…. Knowing she was alive, well and hating him with such a raw passion to never want to see him again…. That was decidedly worse. In death, he could remember her how she had been but all he would remember now was the absolute loathing stirring in the Nabooian lagoons when she knew she didn’t want him anymore.

 

The night before they left for Starkiller, he had watched her sleep. He had felt the tranquilizing, feather-light pressing of her chest against his side at timed intervals when she inhaled. Lying on his back with an arm slung guardingly around her, he already knew what he wanted and had already begun piecing together how to get it. His resolve only strengthened when the Hosnian system erupted into dust above them; the first step into ensuring an ordered galaxy for his future wife and children. Of course, the X-Wing dive-bombing into the ill-fated Precinct 47 changed everything.

 

Hux’s impulsive side had been smothered as a child. He was taught that every decision he made should be ordered and thoroughly thought out; in that way, he had grown into a level-headed individual with experience and logic far beyond his years with seemingly no way of distorting that. Until Lucilla. The night he had plucked her away from where Kylo Ren left her battered and bruised, he fought with himself to follow her from their bedroom. Instead of allowing the impulse to go and comfort her, he remained with the careful decision to give her space and stayed in bed.

 

Since then, his impulsive desires had become rampant. How many times had he taken her out of sudden wanting? Not to mention the prospect of hiring a temporary ‘companion’ that led him back to her and the subsequent slaughter of her new master. The imminent arrival on Coruscant flashed on the pilot’s console and time was running out; now or never. So he chose now with the com still in hand.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"There are some things....." The reluctance was obvious and almost alien in a man so confident and cruel. A slight turn of her head was the only confirmation he got that she was listening and the relief was unparalleled when he found her fully dressed. "I wish for you to know before you leave." The stagnant pause clawed at him and he had (perhaps wrongfully) hoped she would be more responsive. Somewhere, deep down, maybe he hoped that she would change her mind; the callous reception suggested otherwise.

 

"I love you." Nothing. Disheartened, he continued as if it didn't feel like his heart had been ripped from his chest and stomped on by dainty but slavery-worn feet. "I love you more than life itself and I do realize that I did not prove that when I had the chance. But I have never regretted anything more than I regret that." Again, nothing so he pushed himself on.

 

"I wanted to marry you. I still do but I doubt you will allow that to happen." Had he foolishly thought she might answer if he tried to be inclusive in his agonizing confessions? Foolishly is the key word. "I would do anything for you to reconsider, absolutely anything though I understand I don't deserve it." More scathing silence, clearly she agreed. Hesitation bit at him in his next venture but any small gesture that might sway her decision, he would try it.

 

"I promised you a gift and even if you are determined to leave, I would like you to have it regardless." From his pocket, he produced one of the sources of his lonely torture. One eye flickered to the side to where he placed the cartridge beside her on the bed, almost in distrust until he swiftly backed away, lest she strike again. She seemed to focus on it but was unwilling to degrade herself by speaking to him so she waited.

 

"When you went missing, your father put holos of you out all over the Undercity and beyond." He relayed the first-hand information as she cautiously reached out and picked up the tiny object to scrutinize it. "He promised that if you were returned to him unharmed, he would ask no questions. Needless to say, no one came forward. There is no chance Varden didn't see it but I assume he felt any price he could fetch for you himself would be far greater than any reward your father could give."

 

 _"How long have you had this?"_ Her voice cracked as her frail hand tightened on it after another bout of heavy silence. Having seemingly forgotten about her punishing muteness, she still refused him the dignity of even looking in his direction, let alone eye contact. In grinding desperation, he still saw it as progress.

 

"Several weeks." He answered, hoping that some change would come of the gift. "Mitaka sourced it from the archives of the Undercity. I had intended on giving it to you with the choice of returning home or staying with me to be my wife."

 

 _"Several weeks."_ She repeated quietly, gently tapping the canister off her palm thoughtfully but still withholding her gaze. _"So it was one or the other? Marrying you or ever seeing my father again? Hardly a fair choice."_

 

"Well-"

_"There's no "Well". That was going to be the ultimatum, was it not? Choosing one and forgetting the other?"_

"I hadn't considered-"

_"And you still kept this from me for several weeks. No doubt to tie in with the firing of that despicable weapon of yours."_

"Yes, but-"

 

 _"Have we landed on Coruscant?"_ Thankful for the break in trying to wiggle out an answer under the constant fire of guilt-inducing questions, Hux finally conceded.

 

"We have...." No sooner had the words fallen from his lips, drenched in sorrow; Lucilla was on her feet and en route to the exit.... But not without a fight. _"I'm begging you."_ He breathed with a gentle hold on her arm he'd seized on yet more impulse while he got close enough to try and see if the scent of berries had revived in her hair. His thumb stroked her forearm in some heartbroken apology while the plea dripped desperation, longing and weakness. _"Don't leave me. I'll do anything. I'll spend the rest of my life making it right, making sure you want for nothing ever again-"_

 

 _"Stop begging!"_ The sharpness cut him deeper than any dagger when she rounded on him, only seeing fit just then to look upon him with savage disdain that he wished she wouldn't. _"It's pathetic!"_ Lucilla managed to swipe her arm free and into his hand that still hung suspended, she pressed the cartridge. _"Keep it. For it is the last you'll have of me."_ And with those hateful words, the dark-haired darling made for the door; leaving her grief-stricken lover behind her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Curiosity. Generally, it's encouraged and embraced in us as children but some children don't have that luxury. It certainly wasn't included in the Stormtrooper program and it was only now that FN2187 got to explore his. Recently off his crutches, he found himself still a little unsteady on his feet (he had perhaps become a little too reliant on them) but the pilot was nearly always on hand to catch him if he stumbled while he tried to readjust. While Poe rooted in his drawer for a specific type of spanner, Finn acquainted himself with his new friend's quarters. Something caught his eye though while he half listened to Poe rambling and swearing he would clear out said drawer - a still print out from a holo. Hobbling closer and squinting in concentration at the vaguely familiar face, the closer he got, the more he remembered those hauntingly unique eyes.

 

"Who is this?" The question cut Poe off for just a moment to look up but reimmersed himself again to avoid looking at the painful holo for too long.

"That's my cousin." He had suddenly become less frustrated and more sombre in his tone; even his ruffling had slowed. "She died a long time ago." Unsatisfied with the answer, Finn pressed on.

"Poe, I know this girl. I've seen her before. Older maybe but it's her. Definitely her."

"You can't have, man. C'mon....."

"I'm serious! What happened to her?"

 

"She just... went missing." The older of the two gave up his search and sauntered across the room to where Finn still inspected the image. "My uncle was a trader; he went away for a few weeks and when he came back, his wife was dead and his daughter was missing. She's been gone eighteen years without a sign so he put her name on her mother's headstone to try and trick himself into some closure, I guess." _She went missing…. So there’s still a chance she’s alive._

_“Lucilla….”_ It was so quiet and so supressed, Poe had to convince himself he heard it. Turning to his companion, the pilot openly stared while Finn remained fixated on the picture.

 

“What did you just say?”

“Her name’s Lucilla, isn’t it?”

 

“I…. Yeah! How’d you know that?!” Perhaps Finn should have taken more care in his breathless reminiscing as Poe had since become flustered by the utterance. “Finn….” The older male implored softly; burying such a thing for so long then unearthing it seemed only worth it if the revelation was pleasant. _“How do you know that?”_

“I brought her food once or twice.” Finn confessed, regretting his decision to elaborate when Poe’s face fell into doleful incomprehension. Even more so when it struck him that his superior’s pet had probably accompanied him to Starkiller and more than likely hadn’t survived. “It was uh….. Just a temporary thing while the Lieutenant was away.” His chocolate eyes swept the pale, static face before him; anything not to look at Poe’s but he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to stop now, even if it was difficult for him to hear. Finn’s memory jogged to those few, brief encounters. He had done his utmost to repress his service to the First Order but he would always remember _her;_ she was like him in that she was unlike _them._

 

“I’ll never forget her. She was just…. So….. Not scared but nervous, wary….” Poe’s whole left hand encased his jaw where he tried to soothe himself by massaging his fingers into his cheeks; it didn’t work. “She stood by the sofa and held onto the arm, like it was supporting her. She never looked at me directly, like she was afraid to but she never let me outta her sight til I was gone….” That struck Poe as odd. What kind of prisoner had a sofa?

 

“But…. A sofa, what?”

“Huh?”

“You said she stood beside the sofa.”

“Yeah?”

“What kinda prisoner has a sofa?”

“Oh…..” Finn paused when he reminded himself of the nature of Lucilla’s captivity. If anything was worse than knowing his cousin was within the First Order’s clutches as a simple prisoner, it would be knowing that she was the pleasure object of the mastermind behind Starkiller. “Well…. She wasn’t a prisoner. Not really.”

 

“I’m not following you, Finn.” His sentiments had been correct. It’s not that Poe found it difficult to understand or process, it was more that he was unwilling to accept the revolting alternative; the truthful alternative.

 

“She…. She belonged to the General.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lucilla couldn’t categorically say if she missed Coruscant or not. Of course, she had missed her family but she had been taught not to think about them. Convinced she would never see them again (which was true for her mother), there was little point in upsetting herself by doing it. So when she left the General and descended the dropped ramp, everything came flooding back. Eighteen years of suppression had all come undone with a few steps onto her home soil. Perhaps soil was a generous term but it was real…. She was home. The skyline of the Undercity was more or less unchanged; the air was still smoky and the smell of ‘progress’ made her cough for the first time in a long time.

 

Her first few meandering steps were dogged at a distance by her ex-master, following her forlornly as if ready to usher her back inside if she turned back. She didn’t. If anything, she was keen to put as much distance between them as possible. What did she do now? Head swivelling from left to right as if it was her first time on the planet, she was eager to start anew but captivity from an early age had deprived her of a basic knowledge of how to provide for herself. But already, Lucilla was being watched and not by the General. He watched too but purely to ensure she was safe before he left; if he could bring himself to do so. She seemed oblivious on both counts but not for long. Footsteps ahead on the smog encrusted gravel snatched her attention to an imposing and imminent figure. Instead of fear, some other instinct found its way to her.

 

 _“Papa?”_ And there he was: her new protector. Older and more weathered than she (barely) remembered but it was him, unmistakeably her papa. Rooted to the spot and overcome with emotion, Lucilla stared ahead with a quaking lip and trembling knees as disbelief riddled her. He came closer and closer and with each step, she crumbled with the realization. **_“Papa!”_**

 

 ** _“Lucy!”_** The remaining steps were an unimportant blur. Reunited at last, father and daughter clung to each other after eighteen long years apart. He still held her the same; granted, he couldn’t sweep her up like he used to but the safe embrace remained the same. **_“I found you!”_** The gruffness began to waver as he held her and felt her melt into heart-rendering sobs against his chest; he wouldn’t be long succumbing to the same thing. **_“I can’t believe I finally found you!”_**

 

Hux watched, rejected, from the bottom of the ramp. Internally, a battle raged while he tried to convince himself that this was the right thing to do. She wasn’t his anymore. She didn’t _want_ to be his anymore. He had gone to great lengths to explain consent to her, to show her that it was alright to say ‘no’ and she was saying it now. Had he ever seen her reduced to such emotion as he did now? He couldn’t recall if he did. He caught the bloodshot eye of Keir Bey over his daughter’s shoulder while she tried to force out some choked statement of love but Keir was more focused on the man who had delivered her. The mutual nod was one of respect and thanks, a promise from one to the other that he would love and protect her as he had been unable to do for almost two decades. The redhead waited as the two separated but not completely as Keir went to lead Lucilla away. He managed to restrain his anxiety while he hoped that he might get a bare scrap of attention from her before she left his life forever. With every step they took in the opposite direction, his hope slowly became cruelly extinguished until he resigned himself to the fact that he had done this to himself. Keir did look back one more time. Lucilla, however, did not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS. IS. NOT. THE. END!!!!!!


	28. Proceed with Caution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years since Lucilla and Hux parted ways and word reaches the General of an orphanage on Yavin 4 where Resistance affiliates are hiding out under the protection of the children's guardian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do review! xxx

 

No one could ever describe the General as docile. He was patient because he had to be, not because it was any sort of virtue he willingly possessed, but one he taught himself. He was rigid, ordered and rigorous in every inspection, protocol and even in his scarce off-duty hours. To look at General Hux, to listen to him and watch every move he made; one could successfully determine that the man had nothing else. That was true for almost his entire to life to date…. Save for one year. Just one year. One year that when he retired to his quarters in the evening, he was loved. In that one year, his demeanour had not changed much from the usual but one would barely notice little fleeting moments of something akin to happiness. One hour before his shift was due to end, Hux would become almost fidgety; as if the clock striking set off an automatic reaction of involuntary shifting of his feet with impatience and his eyes to hurry the minutes faster.

 

Some officers did note their superior staring off into uncharacteristic nothingness, seemingly blank in his stare, his expression and indeed his entirety. While it may have appeared the General had shut down, his mind was working, almost in a frenzy and that could happen at any time but some found it most common in the morning. The cogs in that flawless machine of a brain clicked into patterns that went something like…… _“Is she asleep?” “Has she eaten?” “Is she reading?” “Has she bathed? Is the water hot enough for her?” “Does she miss me?_ ” That all changed after Starkiller. He didn’t ask himself those questions anymore and to think of her had been torture. It still was. In fact, he still (foolishly) asked himself the last question; as if to twist the knife. He convinced himself long ago that she didn’t but like an insistent child, he still asked.

 

He still stared off into the vast depths of the galaxy, watching the black studded with diamonds beyond the thick glass of the Finalizer’s windshield and even that reminded him of her. He remembered how she stared listlessly out the window of Starkiller on her first visit there, distracted enough by it to not hear him return. On another level, he caught every star winking at him; he watched them glitter like the diamonds he would have ensured she had or indeed, whatever gems she desired if she desired them. It was one of these trances that Mitaka found himself trying to gently wake the General from, loyally trying to keep his voice low to avoid drawing attention to him as his alertness had faltered.

 

“Sir?” As if there was a small, irritating insect buzzing near his ear; Hux’s head seemed to twitch ever so slightly to relieve himself of it, but found his Lieutenant instead. The intense, mute stare conveyed his attention had been snatched. “S…Sir? The squadron has returned. The search has been fruitful with a number of confirmed and suspected Resistance members seen frequenting an active orphanage on Yavin 4.” Yavin 4? He could see no visible connection to the planet; what it might have that others wouldn’t but it certainly gave him a stab of smug satisfaction when he realized the cowardice of hiding among children.  

 

“Good. Load the data.” His bidding was done and the monitor nearest to him began to instantly fill with diagnostics and information that pleased him to no end as he turned to regard the monitor carefully. “Prepare a squadron.” Mitaka retreated with the usual reverent murmuring of _“Yes, sir.”_ Finally, they had something after so much nothing. It had been two years since he lost his beloved Lucilla and from there, he did his utmost to submerge himself in his work, only surfacing in the privacy of his quarters where he could wallow in self-hatred and loneliness without disruption. It seemed anything that he could remotely link to her (unwillingly) provoked thoughts he would rather not entertain in the presence of his men but it seemed turning up Resistance activity after so long did the trick. Involuntarily, he found himself recalling that night two years previous when he returned to Finalizer without her. He remembered Mitaka waiting though the subtle glance behind him would always stay with him.

 

_“Sir? Where is-?”_

_“Gone, Lieutenant. Forget her. She’s not coming back.”_ Cruel to be kind, or so he told himself and not just to Mitaka; Hux himself needed to believe it too. If only he had the benefit of blindly believing she was dead like Mitaka did…. It mightn’t hurt so much then, despite the supposedly numbing passage of time which he could now confirm was a lie to ease the broken-hearted.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Y’know, if you needed help, you shoulda called sooner!” The olive skinned pilot jested in time with the quick clicks of his boots on the ramp and down into the rough, trademark hug of his uncle as Finn trailed uncertainly behind._

_“I know you were busy off saving the galaxy.” Keir clapped the smaller male on the back; he hadn’t changed much. “You didn’t have time for an old fart like me but now you’ve no excuse!” Poe had lost both his parents, Keir had lost Lucilla and loss had gelled them together until Poe realized the need to pick up where his parents left off; fighting for freedom from the pilot’s seat of an X-Wing. And of course, Keir let him go. “You brought a friend?” Relinquishing his nephew, he got one of the brief, rewarding glances of his sister lurking beneath in her son’s smile; sometimes Keir only got flashes of her but cherished it when he did._

_“Yeah, I did. This is Finn.” Closing up on Poe’s side, Finn took the worn hand he was offered with a strong shake of his own; a gesture clearly appreciated by Keir._

_“The Stormtrooper?”_

_“That’s me, sir.”_

_“You’re very brave, son. Not everyone would do what you did and I’d have lost even more if you hadn’t.”_

_“Thank you, sir.”_

_“Drop the ‘sir’.” Finn caught the ‘Told you so!’ smirk from Poe and he did have to question himself; what had he been worried about? Playful and understanding, Keir seemed to be an older extension of Poe. “My name’s Keir, there’s no need for ‘sir’.”_

_“What’re we here for?” Poe chimed, taking the next slot in the conversation before someone else could. “Something you want us to take a look at?”_

_“Yeah, you could say that.” Keir replied, scrubbing a dirty hand into the bristles on his chin before starting into the house with just a simple nod as indication to follow which both did. “I found something. Something that’s been missing for a long time and I thought you’d like to see it.” Unjudgmental of his meagre surroundings, Finn simply looked around with interest until he felt the others stop where they found themselves in a living room of sorts. Cold, shabby and probably not the cleanest; it was still someone’s home to be respected and Finn intended on doing just that. Lost in conversation, Poe should have noticed the creeping smile sooner than he did. He should have noticed that Keir was no longer looking at him but rather looking past him; however, when Poe did tweak it and turned with curiosity burning in his bones, that burning turned to ice. “You alright, Poe?” Keir asked with gentle jesting. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”_

_For a long time, Poe said nothing; he simply stared. With so many things buzzing in his skull, all vying for his attention, it seemed staring was the most stable solution for now. She was six when he saw her last and he fourteen but he recognised her instantly and it was Poe’s turn to receive the ‘Told you so!’ smirk from his Stormtrooper companion. A few uncertain steps were taken forward towards the pale-skinned, dark-haired vision and his incredulity seemed to only make her own smile stretch further. In a mutual instant, the cousins broke the careful marking of each other to embrace for the first time in eighteen years. Poe tried to be careful; her frailty had not escaped him but the desperation to have her close again won out._

_“I can’t believe this!” He choked, biting back tears simply for bravado’s sake as the clinging hold continued and his heart threatened to burst. “Lucy? That you? That really you?!”_

_“It’s me.” She answered, soothing to contrast though she was barely more collected than the pilot. “I’m alright.”_

_“What happened to you?” Urgency had broken through and though he still held her arms, he had drawn back to monitor her face which had fallen into maddening melancholy._

_“That is a conversation for another time.” Amicable and docile as always but it was impossible to ignore the veil of trauma after her initial hesitancy to answer. “Let’s not taint this with that darkness but I will tell you when the time is right. I just need you to be patient with me.”_

* * *

 

How does one expect children to react when their home is attacked and their only sanctuary destroyed? How afraid must they be when their only guardian, the one that had fought to win each one over individually, is taken from them in a barrage of white armour and red blaster shots? Terrified. Those screams reverberated, almost tangible in the otherwise agonizingly silent interrogation room and there was no blocking them. _Failure._ That seemed to be the only feeling in an otherwise stunned and numb body; none of it felt real. How had this happened? Dinner time went off without a hitch, bed time was as smooth as always and then, they descended with the darkness. Tens, dozens, hundreds; it was impossible to tell with the flurry they arrived in and the record time that they tore the orphanage apart, leaving petrified and injured children in their wake. All there was to do now, was wait.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Mitaka hovered at the entrance to the bridge, hesitant to deliver the news as if it were Kylo Ren he was delivering it to and not his even-tempered General. The shock had yet to wear off but he needed to press on regardless. Forcing one foot in front of the other, he crossed the threshold from the corridor and into the usual hive of activity in the central and most important hub of Finalizer.

 

“Sir?” The flicker of cold blue eyes confirmed the presence of limited attention and now that he had begun, he had to finish. “Sir, the squadron scoured the orphanage but found no Resistance affiliates.” The response was subtle; a displeased twitch of the jaw which spurred Mitaka on to reveal the better half of the news though he could not bring himself to give the whole truth. “They did, however, apprehend the woman running the orphanage. They believe she may be able to-“

 

“Escort her to an interrogation room and I will attend to it shortly.”

 

“She’s already in interrogation room 4, sir. But…..” The “but” earned him an unimpressed swivel on his superior’s pristine boots which prompted the younger male to swallow painfully under an almost savage gaze. “I urge you, sir….. Proceed with caution.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _Proceed with caution._ The words echoed in his mind as his boots ironed his stride into the steel catwalk leading to the interrogation rooms. What did that mean? He had terminated the conversation after that vague warning, awaiting no explanation nor did he hear Mitaka attempt to offer one as he walked away. Hands clasped in the uniform rigidity behind his back, the grip seemed even tighter on this occasion as the unknown bade for him. Was she aggressive? Was she hysterical? Was she Force-sensitive? He could surpass all of those things with little difficulty; after all, she would have been disarmed when she was brought on board while he made it his business to always carry a blaster. He would find out what he needed to know, he always did.

 

Interview mode clicked into place as he waited for several doors of a secure nature to slide back to admit him until he came to the one guarded by two armed and ready Stormtroopers. _Proceed with caution._ It resonated with him again and for some reason, he couldn’t shake it; as if the advice might actually be useful. Hux, however, proceeded as boldly and confidently as he always did during his work hours and this interview was just that: Work. The advice was more valuable than he could ever have expected and he only realized it when he found himself face to face with a very familiar bundle of dark curls and pale face of breath-taking features that haunted his dreams chained the interrogation chair. As though suddenly drenched in cold water, the General’s skin became littered with goosebumps as those magnificently unique eyes heightened to her former master, lover and current captor. Crippled with disbelief, he inched forward into the light where she continued to watch him without fear; he wasn’t sure why he expected her to be afraid. He paced for a few seconds with a fascinated gaze trained on her, unwavering and took stock of the mild injuries that had no doubt been awarded in the struggle. _Split lip, bruised eye; yes, those seemed familiar._

_“Lucilla…..”_ That prayer-like name he often found himself uttering in only his own company had a deeper purpose this time and someone else to hear it. What else could he say? At a loss, he remained shaken but rooted to the spot in utter bewilderment as the staring match continued; one side was meek and (to a degree) relieved for a prayed seemingly answered while the other maintained a bold hold where ill-forgiveness still bubbled.

 

_“So…. You found me.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! xxx


	29. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in two years, General Hux and ex-lover Lucilla are in close proximity and seemingly, neither are going anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, tell me what you think!

Is it really better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? If you never loved at all, surely you don’t know the blistering sting of having them ripped from your arms? Or worse, when they walk willingly? You don’t know betrayal or rejection from the person you trusted most; that person who swore to you and promised you forever. If you never loved: your pain is benign, it never happened, you are blissfully ignorant to what could have been. To the severed other half…. It’s all they think about. Is the fleeting feeling of security and infatuation; the touches, the kisses and declarations of devotion worth it? Can you lie alone and remember those times you were not? Those times outnumbered by solitude by how many? To torture oneself with the “what ifs” is a painfully painless exercise that induces more tears than it saves but don’t you get to think of them? So is it really better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? Maybe if you’ve never loved, losing it doesn’t seem so bad.

 

General Hux had always known what to say and what to do. He always had some cool and quick retort for every problem that arose but now; he was speechless. Lucilla basked in his dumb gaze; defiant and almost bratty while his mind remained frustratingly blank and if he didn’t know better (if he could even string a thought together), he might have believed she was enjoying rendering him in such a state. Slowly, his faculties started to return and though words still failed him, his mind began piecing this unpredictable situation together slowly; starting with her injuries. Inflicted in the struggle no doubt, he was uncertain if he wanted the camera feeds pulled from the armour of the squadron’s commanding Trooper; to find out exactly what happened and punish those responsible accordingly. If she was in pain, however, she masked it well. Had she become colder? He certainly felt a drop in the temperature of the (normally) crisp interrogation room and the frigid, nervous paces he took in an attempt to ease his discomfort could not shake the uncharacteristically savage gaze of the woman in the metallic chair.

 

 _“I see you still haven’t had your fill of displacing and terrorizing children.”_ The benign drawl shook him for a reason he just couldn’t explain. Perhaps he hadn’t expected her to speak, maybe he hoped that if she didn’t that he might have some chance of holding his (fraying) nerve; he was right to have such a concern. Her glower hadn’t ceased; if anything it intensified when she realized she had pressed a rather delicate nerve that had nothing to do with children. It was delicious to watch him squirm despite him having the upper hand in every sense; she still had the ability to whittle him to nothing with her words alone and it appeared to be working. While that melodic articulation of the Coruscant origin had once bore adoration and devotion that had given him butterflies now had a different, fear-inspiring effect. The spotless leather of the General’s boots squeaked ever so slightly as he paced slowly behind the chair, to the only blind spot where she would not see him unravel. Would the noise distract her from the distressed hitch in his breathing? Seemingly not.

 

 _“Babies.”_ She began ominously with a twitch of smug satisfaction but behind the goading façade, worry plucked. “ _Toddlers. Children. All under my protection from which I was whipped away in a flurry of Stormtroopers. How do you think that looks for the Order? Not well, I imagine?”_ No answer from the dry-mouthed redhead so she continued with her calm barrage. _“Not to mention teenagers that I brought back from the brink of militancy one by one, hell bent on avenging their parents and siblings in the Hosnian system. But now…. Well, you’ve managed to radicalize them all by one swift move, haven’t you? I thought you were a strategist?”_ Again, he seemed to have nothing to reply and she was content to let him stew for a moment. Perhaps it was overseen of him; after all it wasn’t a secret that so many families had been shattered after the destruction of the Hosnian system, revenge would of course be on the agenda of many. However, he couldn’t have anticipated that it would hit so close to home with his beloved Lucilla picking up the pieces and cleaning up his mess.

 

Running out of menial distractions, Hux’s thumb pressed over the panel (even though the encasement of his glove, his print was recognized) and with a subtle jolt of the ageing chair, Lucilla’s restraints unclasped from her wrists and ankles. He tried to ignore the brief bleat of relief and the steady inhale that suggested lingering pain but any reaction of discomfort she gave grated at him; all he could do was hope that such concern was not let on. He slinked to the corner of the room and watched almost dolefully from the break the new silence. Not for long, however.

 

“What happened to you?” Hoarse, he could barely tell if he had spoken or not and eye contact had mercifully not been made. How often had he tormented himself over her safety and her wellbeing in the last two years? How often did he wake up alone and stare at the refresher door in the middle of the night, only to realize with bitter heartbreak that there was no light coming from under said door? How often had he sat and bitten his knuckle as he stared into the fire; agonizingly wishing that she was back with him? Too many. The answer to all was too many. And yet, here she was, miraculously back to where he longed for her though he would have given anything for the circumstances to be different. She was relatively safe and unharmed, save for a few lacerations and bruises. She was not overly aggressive towards him though he suspected that she knew he had the upper hand and had been taught how to pick her battles. But…. Resistance spies in an orphanage….. It couldn’t be….

 

 _“You seem to like asking that question.”_ Perhaps the restraints had been the bone of her contention as their removal had lessened the edge on her tone and began to resemble the purr he remembered too long ago; still, burden shadowed it. _“But you never liked hearing the answer. I doubt this time will be any different.”_ Their last encounter had taught the General that silence was best when she had him (metaphorically) by the throat. The token movement of shuffling little paces soothed him a little though he kept clear of the chair from where he could feel curiosity radiating; it had all been a massive, mistaken coincidence….. But would she believe that? It seemed she was as determined to clear up the matter as he was; common ground was always a good thing. _“You took me from my children. Why? It’s been two years and nothing, why now?”_

“You must believe me when I say I had absolutely no idea you were running the orphanage.” While he managed to keep his voice low, he wasn’t sure if he’d managed to keep the tang of useless envy from it. _My children…_. She, of course, had always had a heart he never deserved; much larger that his jealousy wanted only for itself…. Those children weren’t hers, that was impossible but to hear her say it pinched at him; it flinted a covetous spark and nudged the paranoid idea that she had been with someone else and forgotten him. However, despite the dormant emotions that began to reawaken, he managed to keep his composure. “We received intelligence that a number of known Resistance affiliates were frequenting an orphanage on Yavin 4. I must go where the intel takes me, whatever casualties-“

_“Even children?”_ Naturally, he had no answer that didn’t make him sound like a monster; had he become conscious of it? Was it her? Did she make him feel like that? His half paces continued until he reached the far corner away from the light, ignored the chair and strived to stave from her gaze; like Beast from Beauty.

“Why were there Resistance spies in the orphanage _?”_ He opted to gloss over her mild objection and pray instead for a forced take-over; the Resistance throwing its weight and the defeat of Starkiller around to hide where they pleased. Unfortunately for Hux, it was not to be.

 

 _“I wouldn’t have the orphanage if it wasn’t for the Resistance.”_ The answer was simple but cutting in the realization that she had willingly aligned herself with the enemy. Well, his enemy. Not hers anymore; he was her enemy now. _“You probably don’t remember, or maybe you do; it marked the beginning of the end for you, after all.”_ It was his turn to be curious and it appeared she didn’t intend to keep him guessing. _“The pilot. You interrogated him before you turned him over to Kylo Ren. He flew the X-Wing that destroyed the oscillator in Precinct 47-“_ How many times had she heard the story to know the details? _“The pilot who stole your Stormtrooper and your Tie-Fighter: The best pilot in the Resistance. His name is Poe Dameron and he is my cousin.”_ Orion felt a churning in his stomach; she’d been close to the Resistance all along and never known it. In fact, he did remember the pilot; he remembered discussing his then lover while said pilot was dragged behind himself and Ren, unconscious. Although he couldn’t see her, she sounded somewhat….. _neutral?_

 

 _“There was nothing for me on Coruscant. My father was away most of the time and an empty house with sore memories held no appeal.”_ Hux registered the tired groaning of the metal as two dainty feet met the immaculate steel floor and relieved the chair of an unsubstantial weight. _“I heard bits and pieces on Tatooine but when you’re almost constantly drugged, it’s difficult to know what’s real and true.”_ How the General managed not to flinch, he’d never know but he would always be grateful. _“Poe brought me to meet your counterpart, General Organa; a wonderfully kind and understanding woman. A former princess, I believe.”_ Lucilla’s half-hearted saunter served the same purpose as the General’s – distraction. _“I was worried about how I would be treated; because of **who** I was and **what** I was_….” Again, another flinch never made it to the surface; she still thought of herself as an object. And after all she’d been through, it would take more than someone telling her she wasn’t for her to believe it.

 

 _“But everyone was as friendly and compassionate as the General, despite what they knew of me and I’m sure you know that word travels fast; not even a Resistance base is above gossip.”_ Even in the barely interested swipes of her eyes to her surroundings, her ignorance of the security protocol on Finalizer meant she did not notice something that had just entered his mind; something that caused him to straighten while Lucilla refused to look at him properly – the monitoring equipment. _“I stayed there.”_ She continued with a note of fondness but her pace remained the same and a small flicker of a genial smile, her hands clasped together in front of her as she moved. _“Children started to arrive. Two at first, a brother and a sister; four and two.”_ The movement stopped suddenly as if the memory required concentration she could not spend on steps. “ _As good as their intentions were, the base staff were not equipped, nor_ _did they have the time_ _to care for children so I volunteered.”_ With nowhere to sit per say, Lucilla opted to remain stationary but Hux was eager to know more; his patience would be rewarded. _“Two more arrived that week. Three the next, including a baby of four months old. They needed me; they needed **someone** …. So I did what I could and it grew from there.”_

Naturally, Hux wasn’t surprised. She had always wanted children (as long as he’d known her at least and more than likely before that) but the means of having her own had been cruelly taken from her to embody the ultimate sexual servant. It hadn’t dampened her love though and while she had showered him with it, it seemed she had plenty left over and needed somewhere to put it; unfortunate children and victims from her former lover’s actions fitted the bill.

 

“You mentioned teenagers.” He prompted her quietly and for the first time, he felt those long-missed eyes on him; the temptation to quake under them was almost too much but he reminded himself of composure and of his duty. Practicality had not left him. If there was a threat from a group of armed teenagers, they were still a threat which he could not afford.

 

 _“Older siblings of the children I took in, most of them self-reliant and independent who would stay with us for a few days a week. They helped out, contributed money and other chores that I could not expect young children to do; purely out of gratitude for their siblings. But the Resistance provided me mostly with what I needed, including the property on Yavin 4.”_ The General found himself nodding absent-mindedly along with every uttered word. Orion mustered the buried strength to raise his eyes and immediately, his wounds opened. She hadn’t changed, a little tired looking perhaps but her pampered and captive lifestyle was over; particularly if she cared for children but still as striking as the day she arrived on Finalizer. And she watched him without hate, without disdain; merely sorrow. Lips wetted nervously, Hux drew another trembling breath and while it was tempting to simply sweep from the room, he trusted no one else with this exceptionally delicate prisoner; certainly not Kylo Ren.

 

“The spies.” He pressed with a muted swallow though her expression didn’t change. “Why were there spies at the orphanage?”

 

 _“They provide for it, I’m not going to tell them they can’t avail of it when they’re in the system for a bed and a meal.”_ He wanted to believe it was that simple, that innocent but even if Lucilla didn’t know it, it was never that easy where the Resistance were involved. Even if she did know, why should he expect her to tell him? He wouldn’t torture her, he suspected she knew that much but she probably wasn’t safe in thinking he wouldn’t get someone else to do it but he wouldn’t do that either however, a curtain of rage slowly started to unfurl in his chest as he replayed her words. _A bed and a meal…_

“And was that bed ever with you?” His demeanour had overhauled itself into boldness and offense that he probably didn’t deserve but she had always been a sore spot; what could she expect when she had taken lovers in the Resistance? Taken aback by the sudden stab, Lucilla’s expression changed; very much like the General’s; indignant and aghast.

 

_“Excuse me?!”_

**“You heard me!”** He countered, more loudly this time with a possessive flare of his nostrils and a few steps out of the shadows in a bid for a proper, jealous challenge. **“How many of them?! Who?!”**

**_“How dare you!”_** The affronted snap matched his own volume and would have sent him recoiling if his blood wasn’t boiling in his veins. How could she do this?! How could she be so dismissive?! After everything he’d done for her?! The red patch beneath her eye had become more accentuated as her vexation climbed with the utterly baseless accusations. **_“How very dare you! Who do you think you are, demanding information like that?! I owe you no such favour! You left me to die, remember?! Or have you forgotten that little detail?!”_** Irritated and all as he was, how could he not think she wouldn’t defend herself?

****

**“Recording equipment: Shut down!!”** Somewhere in the main control room, a small gaggle of technicians were going into a frenzy when they lost audio on the interrogation of the orphanage owner and also the blackness that coated their screens; it would mean reconditioning for them for sure. The General could not afford for this to get personal while there were still invisible eyes and ears within the cell. If it did, his own position would be compromised and the order handed down for the dark haired darling to be executed; most likely by his own hand if his master’s sadistic moods prevailed. Safe for now, he continued his barrage that was perhaps a little more telling than he would have liked but found himself unable to stop. **“If I had even gotten a scent of a whisper of a rumour that you were alive, I would have torn the galaxy a new black hole to find you!! AND YOU KNOW IT!!”**

**_“LIAR!!”_** Too riled to let the harpy-like shriek pierce him, he stripped off the Garber wool coat and tossed it impetuously into the corner with a bulky **thud** ; a blind act of aggravation though his eyes never once strayed from the equally furious female only a few feet from him though the distance closed rapidly until they screamed nose to nose. **_“DO NOT INSULT ME; I KNOW YOU WERE LOOKING FOR ME!! AND BEING THE DISGUSTING CREATURE THAT YOU ARE, YOU PUT MY CHILDREN IN HARMS WAY TO GET ME!!”_**

****

**_“I LET YOU GO AT YOUR REQUEST!! I RESPECTED YOUR DECISION TO LEAVE!! AS FAR AS I KNEW, YOU WERE ON CORUSCANT, NOT RUNNING A FUCKING ORPHANAGE ON YAVIN 4!!”_ **

**_“THE HELL YOU DID!!”_ **

**_“TWO YEARS, LUCILLA!! TWO YEARS, I’VE TORTURED MYSELF EVERY DAY BECAUSE OF WHAT HAPPENED!! WHY WOULD I DO IT TO MYSELF??!! WHY WOULD I WILLINGLY OPEN THOSE WOUNDS AND PUT MYSELF THROUGH THAT AGAIN??!!”_ **

****

**_“LISTEN TO YOU!! MYSELF, MYSELF, ME, ME, ME!! YOU KNOW NOTHING OF TORTURE!!”_** In truth, he didn’t. Not compared to what she’d been through. His days on Tatooine had been a nightmare and every day since but it had been self-inflicted so to a degree, he could curb it. She, on the other hand, had been at the absolute physical mercy of people who wanted to hurt and control her; there was no contest. Lucilla’s heavy pants of wrath were the only sound in the damn near silent cell for a moment, eyes wild and locked and almost inviting him to even squeak lest her tirade escalate. **_“Every. Day.”_** Those two rumbling words attacked his core and though there was nothing especially incriminating about them, he knew he did not want her to continue. However, there was a difference in what Lucilla wanted and what Orion wanted.

 

 ** _“Every day I received a new punishment. Things so heinous even your cruel mind would struggle to conceive them but your father’s did. You know NOTHING about torture so do not degrade me by telling me what you endured was the same thing.”_** Dumb, Hux swallowed again with little to reply. She was right and he’d never denied it; waking up in the middle of the night and missing someone dreadfully was not the equivalent of being raped, beaten and whatever else she had been subjected to. Lucilla held his gaze with steel until he was graced with the relief of her back when she turned to compose herself. Her steps were bordering on unsteady while he fought with himself as to whether he should follow her or not; to catch her in case she needed catching.

 

“I know….” He doubted he deserved to weigh in but did so anyway as Lucilla flopped despondently against the wall so he proceeded cautiously, advised. “For two years and more, I’ve done nothing but remind myself constantly of everything you endured and how it was _my fault._ Believe me, little dove, I haven’t allowed myself to forget.” He expected her to lash out again for the slip of the tongue on her old pet name but she either didn’t notice or refused to spend her energy on it; either way he was grateful.

 

 _“You don’t know everything.”_ The emotionless mutter echoed trauma. _“You don’t even know half of it and you’re correct, it is your fault.”_ Hux took the unintentional stab with an overcome sort of nod, opting not to defend himself; after all, he punished himself plenty but was there any retribution to match any she could dole him? Probably not. There was nothing to gain from this only ammunition against himself though he still had trouble convincing himself that she was there with him; in the flesh, in person and he had accepted that. Or had he? Braving a few steps towards her, she appeared to look straight through him; as if her surroundings and her company remained unprocessed.

 

“I shouldn’t have asked you that, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have accused you of it, I had no right.” Another swallow seemed to wake her to his discomfort and her senses readjusted to include him again; possibly a distraction from whatever entombed musings had begun to claw at her again. “But sometimes…. It is easier to get by when I believe nothing has changed when nothing could be further from the truth.” He found her focused on him but silent, as if giving him consent to continue. Needless to say, he took it without hesitation. “I said it once, a long time ago but I’ll say it again, just in case. I love you. That’s never changed and I suspect it won’t. I know you don’t share that sentiment and I don’t expect-“

 

 _“Who said I don’t?”_ The General’s confession came to an abrupt halt by the blue-eyed beauty’s hushed interjection. The heat of a joint stare warmed the other until those careful steps resumed and he was even with the source of his scourge. After that, his mind went blank and his body took over. How did he expect her to react, sandwiched between him and the wall with his lips pressed genially to hers? It turns out, exceptionally well. So well in fact, that Lucilla had no reluctance in returning the impulsive embrace; much to Orion’s disbelieving delight. They melted into each other, seamlessly falling into the old pattern and the most comfortable stance for both (the height difference had not changed); namely his arm settling on her waist to tempt her closer while his hand settled oh so carefully on the side of her mildly bruised face.

_“Lucilla.”_ The reverent murmur tasted differently on his tongue than it had in the last two years or so. Whether it was because she was there to hear it or because of the urgency with which her lips pushed back to his. In the next instant, the thump of two vying and moulded forms rang in the nearly empty cell as the General’s rear found the seat of the interrogation chair for his lap to be straddled by Lucilla. After that, there was no time wasted. Pulled as physically close as she could be, the tiny female’s neck was slathered with devotion as if it had been far more than two years apart. _“Gods, I’ve missed you…. You have no idea, my love…..”_ Lips redirected to wrestle again, the smell of the berries in her hair struck him and the feel of home re-entered his body at last. _“We don’t have a lot of time, little dove. They will try and override the equipment soon and when they do-“_

_“Sssshhhh….”_ In his distraction, clothing had somehow come loose to the minimum capacity for intimacy; he could only assume that to be her doing but full advantage would be taken. He almost choked on the feeling of unity and the small whine in his ear suggested that feeling was mutual. He never thought he would feel this again; her arm holding her tight against him, chest to chest, nose to nose and sharing the same breath established that _this_ was real. He eventually discovered the strength to lift his hips to meet hers, drop them and lift them again until a pattern and rhythm developed with the encouragement of the sweet whimpers massaging the stoic atmosphere of the cell. Each thrust unleashed a memory he had locked away as self-punishment; rejecting the Colonel’s offer, Naboo, the broom closet on Starkiller….. He didn’t deserve her, he didn’t deserve this chance.

 _“Look at me…..”_ The quiet command was panted but he obeyed immediately. Even in his deepest dreams and most devastated memories, it killed him to realize the shade of blue didn’t match the ones before him. True, the difference was miniscule but different all the same and breath-taking to behold all over again. _“I love you.”_ His rib-cage almost caved to hear it at last but still, he continued with the movements that made her breathing hitch and her eyes flutter. _“I have for a long time and I knew that would never change. So you can imagine my fear when I saw the Stormtroopers-“_

_“The Stormtroopers will be dealt with.”_ He assured her with strain edging on the usually curt and dismissive tone that she always managed to soften. _“The ones that hurt you will be reconditioned; possibly executed, depending on what I see…..”_ The General felt himself beginning to falter, a typical tell-tale sign that he barely recalled but still he pushed on to deliver them both to unified pleasure after too long apart.

 

 _“There’s no need for that, I’m fine….”_ Lucilla bit back a small sob of pleasure at the familiar feeling of orgasm beginning to niggle at her. Adding her own token nudges down into his lap, she was clung harder to him as if she might suddenly be whipped away or simply disappear. That wouldn’t happen again; not this time. The internal feminine hugging brought them to the final leg of their forbidden activity; Lucilla began to crumble and Hux began to stutter but despite the separate reactions dictated by their anatomies, the two powered on together and watched each other as if they might miss a minute flicker of pleasure they were responsible for. They came together; noses aligned, eyes half open and with scarcely a breath between them but the reunion was finally complete.

 

 _“What do we do now?”_ The forlorn question prompted a sigh from the General though he had no intention of moving just yet; despite the possibility of reinforcements on their way to the interrogation room. He would keep an eye out for a sanitation trooper and when he would finally collar one, they would be told (quite subtly) that the chair in interrogation room 4 needed a prompt disinfecting. For now though, he was happy to remain in post-coital bliss with the love of his life (even if the location wasn’t ideal) and adjust her in his lap so he could kiss her properly. However, it was apologetically short-lived when Lucilla pulled back to search her General’s eyes. _“Orion, I need to get back to the orphanage. I need you to release me.”_

****

“Very well.” He didn’t move nor did he relinquish her as she probably expected with by his concession. “But there is one, delicate condition if I am to do that.” Curious, her head tilted but her eyes remained attentively trained on his before he drew that breath laced with finality and sincerity. “Marry me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well?!


	30. Laid Bare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe rages and Hux waits for an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working through some writer’s block issues at the moment so thank you for bearing with me and I do apologize if the content is not up to the usual standard.

 

 

“Will you just **listen to me?!”** Keir charged into the path of the raging bull embodied by his nephew and with no choice but to stop as Resistance milled around him, Poe halted grudgingly and barely spared his uncle a furious and disdained glance. With no verbal nod to continue, Keir bit the inside of his cheek and reminded himself of patience with the younger male; this had happened on his watch, he had to expect Poe’s frustration. Ripped from his current job by the sudden alarm and still in his stained and oily overalls, Keir’s voice dropped. _“She’s not in any danger. She’s-“_

 

 **“Not in any danger?!”** The discretion that Keir tried to exercise was decimated when Poe almost erupted in his face, scarcely spared the shower of saliva. The others continued their tasks to restore some sort of normality for the children but each one seethed like Poe did. **“Look around!”** As if the traumatized children of various ages weren’t enough, part of the building still smoked from the careless forced entry and the earth sat scorched where Trooper carriers had set down and taken off again. **“Of course she’s in danger! They took her! What d’you think he's gonna do-?!”**

“He’s no threat to her.” Keir reasoned, significantly calmer but just as urgent. “If I thought he was, I’d be just as worried but-“ Poe turned away again, tired of excuses and incompetence and resumed his powerful, irate stride; not without Keir though. **“HEY!!”** The rough seizure of the younger male’s jacket went unnoticed by those around them but with a sudden burst of speed and a very rapid shortening of his tether, the mercenary dragged the pilot back and brought them nose to nose.; much to Poe’s unnerved surprise. _“He poured his heart out to me over the com.”_ The worn, gritted teeth and the exaggeration of flared nostrils demonstrated the limit the smuggler had been pushed to and by his own nephew assuming he knew what was best.

 

 _“That so-called ‘monster’ wept to me as he told me he wanted what was best for her, how much he loved her. So drop the act and **listen to me** when I know what I’m talking about!” _ The shove wasn’t aggressive as such but Poe’s subsequent stumble was still startled as he stepped away without taking his eyes from his uncle. “You have my word.” Keir continued, far more amicably as the Commander fixed his jacket. “If we hear nothing by tomorrow at dawn, I’ll lead the charge on Finalizer with you myself but ‘til then…. Trust her.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“I love you.”_

“You already said that. Several times.” The interrogation chair had become significantly less comfortable but it wasn’t for any physical reason, rather by being powerless as he watched her uncertainly pace the dimly lit foot space of the cell. The impromptu question, the one he’d promised himself he would plan meticulously, had slipped out unchecked in a moment of passion that now he bitterly scolded himself for. The General’s nervous fidgeting was decidedly uncharacteristic of his usually brazen and collected demeanour but when had that demeanour ever applied to Lucilla? Not for a very long time and it seemed now was no different, despite their absence from each other. Eye contact hadn’t occurred since she carefully eased herself from his lap in favour of aimlessly inspecting each of her own footsteps as they were laid in no particular pattern, one after the other against the grooves in the floor that acted as a means to drain away blood. Unable to take the intensity anymore, Hux cleared his throat and attempted to drag the authority back to his tone in place of the dejection.

 

“Squadrons: Stand down. Assistance not required, situation under control.” At least now, they would not be interrupted; especially when it appeared he had been overpowered, Lucilla would have been disposed of for certain. Dolefully, he continued to watch her ignore him; she’d never denied his accusations of having lovers in the Resistance, merely refused to admit it which wasn’t the same and the more he waited for a response other than _“I love you”,_ the more apparent it seemed to become: He’d been forgotten. That brilliant, logical and victory-driven mind was no use to him here; there was nothing to be conquered or won, he found himself floundering in foreign feelings of rejection and devastation that somehow had never cut that deep on Tatooine. Here she was; alive, well and their hiatus broken but…. There had been no joyous giggling, tears of disbelief and delight or elated kisses as he’d expected an engagement to entail. There was nothing but drowning silences with the occasional (and empty, emotionless) declarations of _“I love you”,_ his own swallows and his heart pounding in his ears. She was dishearteningly removed from it all.

 

“Am I to take that…..” He began softly, curling his lips into each other to wet them after they’d dried when she slinked away from him; forcing himself to confront the issue rather than subjecting himself to a pointless and painful loop of the same grating expectancy. “As a no?” Lucilla stopped with her back to him but there was no frantic scramble of denial or reassurance, simply a sedated pause in her wanderings and no intention of turning around to convince him otherwise. The seat of the chair became increasingly hot under him though if it was his imagination or if it was truly the case was beyond him nor did it seem to matter when he sprung free of it to resume her steps for her. The wary half-glance over her shoulder at the swift, sweeping sound of movement slowed the purpose in his tread, as if suddenly aware that he might spook her should he get too close, too soon. No careful breath could ease the thundering in his chest, seemingly the only sound to penetrate the noiseless void of the cell when he asked himself if he really needed her to voice that obvious rejection out-loud. He decided it was necessary. “Lucilla? Little dove, please….”

 

To add to his torture and perhaps (subconsciously) a degree of guilt, his gloved hand outstretched and ever so carefully coiled into hers with a small, pleading squeeze. Did he expect her to pull away? With her reactions thus far, he wouldn’t have been surprised. His little dove, however, continued to surprise him. Instead of pulling herself free and putting as much distance between them as possible, Lucilla’s almost defeated close of her eyes and her sigh like a morning breeze made the rejection all the more resounding, despite how she fitted herself into him with scarcely a hair between them. Out of sheer habit, his free arm crossed behind her to keep her close as her forehead sank despairingly to his chest.

 

 _“And do what?”_ The helplessness in that melodic Coruscanti twang had always been one he had hated; he had always prided himself on providing for her and giving her cause to worry about nothing. Needless to say, since Starkiller became ash, that duty had been neglected, nearly detrimentally so to their relationship. _“If I was to say yes, what good would it do? You need to be here, I need to be on Yavin 4.”_ To be strong, she ignored the kiss to her forehead and the pained nudge of his nose to her temple but she still opted to listen to his heartbeat as a now forbidden indulgence she had once taken for granted. _“You have Stormtroopers, I have children; we have different priorities, Orion, different sides…. We can’t-“_

“We can.” The simple declaration that carried such enormous weight saw the heightening of terrified, watering eyes but his newly discovered conviction didn’t allow him to wallow on them. Instead, he decided that enough was enough; to hell with plans and precision and timing, he refused to lose her again. With no rehearsed speech or even notion of one and the rim of his uniform boot pinching his calf, the grip on her hand never relinquished as he lowered himself into the most vulnerable position he could possibly imagine; it wasn’t Naboo, rather it was a dingy interrogation cell on Finalizer. It wasn’t flawlessly and meticulously planned to the last detail with no expense spared; it was an embarrassing, impromptu mess that he wouldn’t dare recount to anyone and it certainly wasn’t perfect….. But it was genuine.

 

“Lucilla Bey….” The General licked his lips in a controlled but panic-stricken manner while his mind scrambled to put sentences together while he gazed up, powerless, at an ashen-faced Lucilla. “More than three years ago, I had no idea that a young woman would board my ship. I had no idea that the cruelty and degradation that she had already endured in her short life was supposed to make mine easier…. but the more I came to learn about her, interact with her and ultimately, came to care for her; I decided that was not acceptable.” Shifting ever so slightly on his knee to ease the prodding discomfort, he continued but never took his eyes from hers. “I took great personal pleasure and pride in building her back up, more so than I could have foreseen and within months and several learning curves, she was unrecognizable in the most _wonderful_ way.” He braced himself as he applied another coat of saliva, never knowing his lips to dry so fast; he would have to broach the nasty topic of Starkiller and all that followed. How could he expect her to forgive it and maybe even look past it if she didn’t know he acknowledged it and was purely repentant?

 

“I nearly lost her; I did, in fact.” He pushed himself on but forced himself to bite back the wave of emotion should it cloud what he needed to say. “And while what I endured can never be compared to what she endured, those few months will be the ones I will never forget and rightly so; had I been the man I should have been, I would have abandoned my mission and rushed to die with her.” The pauses were frequent but necessary while he gathered his thoughts to project them properly and thankfully, Lucilla was patient.

 

“Lucilla….” His throat was clear as he fought to the root of what he truly wanted to say, what he truly thought she needed to hear as his eyes bore into hers. “If you give me this chance, I _promise you;_ you will never go hungry, you will never be cold and I would gladly place my life to buffer you so you do not feel a prick of danger….” Fearful this would not be enough, the General reshuffled his weight for the umpteenth time and brought her hand to his lips (which he was overly conscious of) and battled on. “Little dove, I understand your concerns and I agree, it would not be easy but…. To prove myself and validate everything I have said, my love, I would readily and happily defect if it meant you would be my wife.”

 

_“Orion….”_

 

“I will abandon all that I have become, what has and is expected of me; my heritage, my lineage, my breeding. My life’s work is nothing if you do not condone it nor can I expect you to so I shan’t. I know nothing about children but I am a swift learner and eager to pull my weight in whatever that may be; I will do it all without hesitation if I can retire with you at night and wake up to you each morning. Nothing would give my life greater purpose, little dove, you need to believe that. So….” Out of habit, his thumb brushed gently along her knuckle as his lips wetted once again but the pleading gaze was maintained. “Will you marry me?” The initial reaction was neither verbal nor expected; not when she dropped to her own knees to be even with him and of course, that heartfelt and desperate kiss were returned without reluctance or even thought with their fingers still interlocked. When she drew back, her eyes still watered and her breath was ragged but differently to how they were before.

 

_“I’ll marry you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for bearing with me and I hope you enjoyed it!


	31. Such Sweet Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux and Lucilla must part ways once again but with the promise of a very special reunion.

“May I offer you a shower? A meal? Perhaps you would like to rest before-“ The pleading attempt to make her stay was silenced with the gentle cup of her palm to his pale, pointed cheek. Forlornly, longingly, the gaze was mutual and as he pried that delicate hand from his face to press a genial kiss to it, the enormity of the task before them started to unravel itself. She was her own woman now, no longer a bought slave and he couldn't cage her again; not as he had done, at least.

 

 _“I have to get back.”_ He dreaded those words. Even though they were uttered in a soothing whisper with adoring strokes of her thumb resuming to his face, the sting remained: She was leaving him again. He closed the distance, enveloping that precious frame within insignia adorned arms and dipped his forehead to meet hers until their immediate breaths were one of the same.

 

 _“When will you marry me?”_ The pining murmur resembled that of an uncomprehending child as he sought the maximum comfort from his beloved.

 

 _“Soon.”_ She promised softly and he believed it wholeheartedly but clung to her regardless. _“For what it’s worth, Orion....”_ Lucilla began, sensing his unease and melancholy. _“I don’t want to leave either but... my children need me.”_ With noticeable and painful hesitation, Orion released her and fought to keep his composure.

 

 _“I know.”_ Resolve and denial was the only way through he could see; to blanket his emotions until he could be sealed away by himself to crumble as he needed to. If he stifled himself hard enough, it might not affect him as badly as it had before but at least now, she was still his. The absence would be the difficult part and they both seemed to realise it; being so close didn’t help matters. _“When you are ready, com me. I will send credits for your dress and whatever else you need, irrelevant of the cost.”_

_“Orion, that’s not nece-“_

_“No, it is. You deserve it and more, everything I can give you and beyond and I would still fall short.”_ It may have been a different kind of resolve but Orion would not be swayed on the matter; if ever there was someone worthy of spoiling, it was her. Another protest stirred in those remarkable features but her General would firmly nip that in the bud as well. _“Little dove, it is the very least I can do for you granting me this honour, this second chance; please, let me do this, no expense spared.”_ Finally, Lucilla caved with a sigh.

_“Very well, if you insist.”_ The materialism of a wedding day was unimportant when the sentiment took precedent but if it eased his mind and his conscience, she would comply.

 

“We shan’t delay then.” Straightening to his full height and returning to his regimented stance, denial started then; followed by her curiosity at the sudden change, even when he extended his arm for her to take. “Come, I will escort you back to Yavin 4 myself.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Lieutenant?”

 

**“Yes, sir?”**

 

Mitaka’s voice on the com pulled the corners of her mouth into fond grimace; she had missed her caretaker of a year and how he used to spoil her under his General’s orders. Arm in arm, Lucilla and Orion approached the departure bay; both strong and newly confident in their new venture together as a freshly betrothed couple.

 

“There has been a case of mistaken identity.” Lucilla’s inquisitiveness tilted to her _fiance’s_ face while he lied, stoically, to his officer. Hux, however, knew Mitaka would have recognized Lucilla and therefore, the com call was little more than a throw-off for anyone who may have been listening. “Under intense interrogation, the keeper of the orphanage is of no connection to the Resistance and knows nothing of their movements.”

 

**“Yes, sir.”**

“I will escort her back to the orphanage personally to extend my apologies on behalf of the Order and to review the damage caused. I request that you prepare a survey team to carry out any repairs with compliments of the Order.”

 

**“Yes, sir.”**

 

“I would also ask that my shuttle be prepped for departure at the earliest possible convenience; that will be all, Lieutenant.”

 

 **“Of course, sir.”** Call terminated, com stored and pace slowed; Orion hesitantly accepted this may be their last meeting for an indefinite period of time and so opted to draw it out as long as he possibly could.

 

“You know you’re welcome here any time, no matter the hour.”

 

_“I know.”_

“The code to my quarters will be changed upon my return to the date you were brought aboard for the first time; do you remember that date?”

 

 _“I do.”_ Her General’s mouth folded into a thin line of apprehension as he took in every dimple and curvature; another mental recording to help himself cope until they were reunited again. Would it be easier to rest now that his dark-haired darling was his once again? That icy blue gaze swept her features and soaked them in; dumbfounded that this magnificent creature had agreed to be his and he hers. Her gentility (especially that shy smile) had always and would always astound him; despite her brutal and tragic past, she had always been the kind and comforting hand that guided him to feel and embrace emotions.

 

“With any luck, the next time I see you, you will utter those words again. And so will I.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _“You know…..”_ Orion’s ear cocked as the jump was made to hyperspace and his bride-to-be’s hand rested placidly on his, one slightly paler than the other; his gloves had been securely tucked into his pocket to maximize the skin on skin contact. _“You made me a promise, some years ago.”_

“And what promise was that, little dove?” The inquiry came after a quizzical pause of failed recollection and when autopilot had been safely engaged to allow him to turn to his beloved and give her the attention she deserved.

 

 _“You promised me a womb.”_ He regarded the revelation silently, watching the docile hopefulness in her face and admittedly, he had forgotten about that particular pledge until she reminded him; repressing such things had been a coping mechanism after she left. Orion straightened in his seat and curled his wrist, allowing her hand to fall into his rather than resting on top of it; the urge to place a kiss to the back of her palm did not go unheeded.

 

“And a womb you shall have, my love.” He replied, scarcely able to mask his delight that such a symbol of dedication had gone unforgotten after so long. “Consider it a wedding present.” It seemed he had decided to push back his denial when he gestured to his future wife with open arms; in seconds, she sat curled up in his lap and as physically close as they could be. “ _There will be monthly donations from four anonymous donors, one for each week.”_ He issued softly, reverently trailing his nose up and down her cheek with lips barely moving. _“Use the credits as you see fit but I would suggest using a portion to hire someone to help you; with an extra pair of hands, you may be able to slip away a little easier.”_

_“You’re right.”_ The angelic breath like a summer Arkanis breeze crossed his as a delicate, ashen hand carefully cradled the sharp edge of his face. _“But you’re too generous, I can’t possibly-“_

_“I won’t hear anymore on it.”_ She knew better than anyone that should he find himself resolute (like he did just then) that he would not be swayed. _“I am responsible for their plight, I think it only fair to contribute even in some menial way to their care and wellbeing; not to mention making my fiance’s life somewhat easier.”_ It was only a matter of time before the proximity lead to indulgence; the indulgence of lips meeting in doting pecks and devoted nuzzles.

 

“I must confess....” His free hand meandered to the same place it had once upon a time; the same place where he had callously examined her scar and selfishly thought only of his own convenience where her womb was concerned. Needless to say, those practical (for him, at least) and cruel thoughts had done a complete U-turn and transformed themselves in the purest way possible; through love and care for the woman he had once viewed as a pleasure object. “I would have thought, given your surroundings and your new vocation, that bringing another child into the galaxy would have not been your priority; let alone my child.” The coy kink of an eyebrow was all he needed to know he had believed wrongly. “But I have to say, I’m very pleased that it is.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _“Just over that ridge.”_ Lucilla informed him regretfully once the shuttle had been rested in a shaded and subtle area of the rich landscape on Yavin 4. _“It would be best if I go alone from here.”_ Even though that declaration almost, _almost_ sliced through his newly installed resolve, the logic was clear and in a way, he was proud that she could rule with her head over her heart when the circumstances dictated. However, he allowed himself one last taste, a taste he satisfied with a final, covetous kiss with an aching aftertaste.

 

“Be ready.” He beseeched somewhat urgently while remaining close but bearing his promise of restraint in mind. “The medics will be briefed as soon as I return and when a match is found, I will send for you. We can discuss our engagement some more of required.” Did he dare break his promise again and steal another embrace? He decided not to and so supressed the goad by kissing her hand instead. “I love you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Lucilla walked away the first time under the escort of her father on Coruscant, she did not look back. However, as she descended on the lulled form of the orphanage and walked away for the second time, it felt like she looked back more often than she looked forward. He watched and waited but some greedy part of him hoped she would turn on her heel and return to him but alas, she glanced back once more before disappearing through a temporarily covered doorway.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lucilla did as she was bid; she readied herself. Though he hadn’t been specific, she prepped in whatever way her imagination and her logic reasoned so she packed a bag; a hospital bag. She should have realized, however, that even though the children had slept through her return, not everyone did.

 

 _“Come in?”_ The blue-eyed beauty regarded her visitor; a visitor she would much rather have dealt with after a few hours of sleep.

 

“You okay?” The question may have been concerned in nature and wording but not in tone; unimpressed and galled probably suited Poe’s sour expression and folded arms more. She didn’t answer straight away though the half-packed bag on the bed caused the lingering of chocolate eyes. “We were worried.”

 

 _“I’m fine.”_ She replied honestly with a scarce and grateful smile as she folded the items she wished to bring; mostly suitable sleep wear. He watched the process, his mind calculating and his demeanour becoming interrogative while hers remained weary with hesitancy dogging her; no doubt he would be asking questions that she would rather not answer. _“My apprehension was something of an accident.”_ Poe’s tongue clicked but the disbelieving nod was far from accepting.

 

“Sure, sure.” The hostility started to blossom in Poe’s air, something his cousin had started to become overly aware of; naturally, it was born of concern but it certainly felt more imposing. “You uhh…. goin’ somewhere, Luce?” If her reluctance could have intensified, it would have at that question but Poe waited defiantly.

 

 _“I’m not going anywhere.”_ She responded with as little confrontation as she could muster, drifting around the commander with ease due to her small, dainty form but he stood firm. _“Not yet, at least.”_ As if dumbfounded by the blatancy, Poe continued to stare with his body language just as incriminating, if not more so.

 

“Meaning what, Luce?!” Poe demanded with seemingly no escalation to his challenge, resentfully moving to follow her as she sauntered back and forth with her packing. “The place gets raided by Stormtroopers and you disappear; conveniently swept back to the guy who held you hostage and now-!” Adventure-worn hands gesticulated vehemently to the half-packed bag. “You’re going on vacation! How nicely that all slots together!” Tired, hungry, pining and worn; Lucilla could endure plenty but her tether only stretched so far.

 

 ** _“Believe what I said, or don’t!”_** The sudden snap stopped him in his assuming tracks; the flare of pale nostrils and narrowing of sapphire eyes halted him faster than he would have imagined. **_“They didn’t know who I was when they took me! They had orders to arrest the head of the orphanage and that was me! He interrogated me and that was it! He never touched me!”_** Perhaps not entirely true but she used the context of violence and prayed Poe wouldn’t poke further; judging by the unnerved swallow, he had no intention of it but now that she had started, she could not be stopped so easily. **_“Now, if you want the truth, I will give it to you!”_** Was now and in this foul humour the best time to deliver such outrageous news? In her current flurry of temper, she didn’t care.

 

 ** _“He asked me to marry him!”_** Poe’s face subsequently dropped, as could be expected. **_“And I said yes!”_** Whether or not, Poe was about to retract his objections or whatever reason he opened his mouth for; Lucilla sliced cleanly through whatever he was about to say. **_“The bag is for a stay on Finalizer, not that it’s any of your concern or business!”_** He had abandoned all attempts at interjecting, there was no point on an incensed rampage like this. **_“My wedding present is a new womb, the one to replace the one they took from me before I was given to him; no one else had EVER even considered that might be what I want! But he has!”_**

 

“Luce, I-“

 

 ** _“No! I am my own woman; I have spent enough time under everyone else’s thumb, I will NOT continue to do that under my own family and the people who are supposed to represent freedom!”_** Poe conceded with a far more sincere nod and an awkward regression of his lips towards his teeth after the verbal neutering the usually meek female battered him with. **_“I don’t care how you feel about this.”_** What else could he say? She was determined and her mind very much made up; nothing would come between them this time. ** _“This is about me. I’m getting married. I’m having my own children and there is NOTHING you can do to stop me!”_**


	32. Cruel to be Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The General has a meeting with the head of his medical team and that meeting is fruitful when Lucilla is brought aboard Finalizer as a free woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hux needs to work on his empathy.

General Hux gave communications from the medbay priority in anticipation of news immediately after he left it as he had promised Lucilla he would. Her compatibility for the procedure had already been established some years ago; before Starkiller blew, in fact. So now, it was a case of waiting which was made significantly easier by the abundance of self-taught patience the redhead possessed. He had not seen his beloved since they parted ways on Yavin 4 almost a week previous; he had heard nothing from her, nor did he know about the confrontation with her cousin but perhaps silence was better if their new relationship was to go undetected and therefore, undisturbed.

 

Every minute of every hour of every day after his meeting with the medical staff had been dogged by apprehension; what if something had changed in Lucilla that meant she was no longer suitable? What if her body rejected it? What if the chosen womb didn’t settle and caused problems? If it didn’t harm her, it would set them back and maybe discourage her from the venture altogether; not that Orion had a selfish dependency on it. If they conceived and a successful birth became of it, he would of course be delighted; however, if they didn’t, it wouldn’t be the end of the galaxy. His relationship and upcoming marriage to Lucilla did not hinge on offspring as most Imperial marriages did; quite the opposite at the beginning when she was incapable but he loved her regardless.

 

His focus would be his _wife._ Would he ever get used to that wonderful word? If the (almost) worst should happen, Lucilla would take precedence. Her comfort would be paramount and she would receive the utmost support, be it physical or psychological, to ease and heal her until she was ready to try again. If it did not go as planned and Lucilla opted not to put herself through the trauma again, he would support that decision and love her just the same. So it was really only the beginning when that fateful com call buzzed in his pocket on the bridge one morning, summoning him to the medbay.

 

“Judging by the data we have for Ms. Bey from previous examinations….,” His head medic, (as if he would discuss such a sensitive matter with anyone of a lower stature) Dr Audin, explained with his data pad with the data in question projected above the desk. “She is perfectly compatible with a transplant. Provided nothing has changed, she should still be compatible.” Hux shifted in his seat with his eyes trained on the projection; plenty had changed but were those the changes the medic referred to?

 

“Do we have a uterus to transplant?” The question was hesitant, almost afraid of the answer. He had promised her everything; anything she wanted he would give it to her without reluctance. She could have asked for jewels, a luxurious home, expensive clothes but she wanted none of those things; she wanted the thing that had been cruelly taken from her in her teens. Any of those other comforts would cost him but otherwise, would have been easy to obtain; however, the one thing she _did_ want had complications. Said complications that he couldn’t have fathomed when he set out giving her what she craved.

 

“We are monitoring a woman on life-support in the Coronet City Hospital.” Audin (a middle-aged man with greying hair from the responsibility of his post) responded, tired from research before changing the data to represent that of the other woman. “From the dossier we sent out, she came back as an almost perfect match; the closest by far. I haven’t seen her myself but I have been in close communication with the medic of her charge and her condition is rapidly deteriorating; organ harvesting will happen within the hour of death.” The General soaked in the new information; she was a similar age to Lucilla but looked nothing like her, not that that would make a difference since his beloved still had the essentials to produce a child that was biologically hers. “She’s not married, no known partner.” The medic answered his next question as he thought it. “And the resident team were meticulous; she is definitely not already pregnant.”

 

“What caused her current condition?” A reasonable enquiry but unnecessary; Audin and his hand-picked associates would have diligently investigated that first to ensure it was not something organic that would affect the organ in question.

 

“A head injury from a ship crash.” Dr Audin was reassuring but watchful of his employer’s reactions; it meant a great deal to perform well on this task and he expected to be rewarded accordingly for stretching beyond his professional norm. “Her brain is too badly damaged to survive but the uterus is completely unharmed and will be sent to us the moment it is harvested.”

 

“So what is the delay?!” It may have sounded brutal; this woman’s life was hanging by a thread and inevitably ending but Hux wasn’t concerned with her, her faint grip on life was not inspirational or thought provoking but little more than a hindrance. Pointed and direct, the General’s interrogation mode targeted at the medic though Audin was undeserving of such a challenge; he was merely a messenger with little control of the events. “I promised my fiancé a uterus as soon as possible and it has been nearly a week!” Lucilla knew nothing of a womb being located nor had she demanded any extreme lengths to ensure she got it as soon as possible; she was far too docile for that. Her husband-to-be, however, still overcome with guilt and desperate to reverse his wrongdoings would do anything to please her with as little respite as possible.

 

“Her family are in denial, sir.” Audin’s patience (like the General’s) was immaculate but it seemed his superiour had crossed into emotional territory that overruled reason and blinkered him to practicality. “But I have it from a reliable source that that denial is beginning to waver; with a little more persuasion, they should soon consent to turn off the machine.” That was all he needed.

 

“Good.” Curt, the redhead rose with long legs and dwindling sympathy before crossing to the door of Audin’s office which opened at the silent command of the access sensors in his uniform. “I wish to know the very moment she takes her last breath, Doctor.” Orion’s callousness continued as he turned on his heel to face the medic one last time before he left. “I will need time to inform Lucilla and have her brought here before the surgery. Thank you for your time and your efforts.” Negotiations consequently ceased.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

As if that poor, unfortunate woman had been listening to the conversation and opted not to be a burden any longer; the General was informed less than a day cycle later that she had passed without the machine being turned off. Whether those circumstances were considered suspicious or it was proof of the female’s condition, Audin couldn’t be sure but he did as he was bid and contacted the head of the flagship with the additional information of the organ being en route already. It had been harvested first for their convenience and routine security protocol of delivery inspections and vessel searches would be suspended for that one item.

 

It had barely been a week and one lot of promised payment from a name she didn’t recognize found its way into the orphanage account; a substantial donation that provided the children with dessert (a rare treat) that evening and more. Poe had made it his business to avoid her lest she attack him again but while he wasn’t speaking to her, he was certainly speaking to others; judging by the looks and sudden stoppages in conversation when she passed, she could only assume she was the reason. Those who had once spoken openly and friendly to Lucilla now only delivered the bare messages but excused themselves before conversation of any personal nature could be broached. Needless to say, her knowledge regarding Resistance activity also became more and more restricted though subtly so as not to draw attention to it, should she feel the need to inform her fiancé.

 

Naturally, she began to feel isolated; it didn’t help that the children began to feel it too when some of the older siblings started to echo the rumours to their younger brothers and sisters, despite everything she’d done for them. When her com buzzed that evening, she was slow to answer it; no doubt it was General Organa suspending her from her post until she had time to re-evaluate what she was doing and who she was marrying. But she answered it anyway, better to get it over with.

 

_“Yes?”_

**“Darling, it’s me.”** That voice….. How welcome it was. Lucilla sank onto her bed and restrained the urge to suddenly crumble; the separation continued to take its toll, the brevity of it irrelevant with everything else piled on top of it. 

 

_“I miss you….”_

**“I miss you too, my love.”** With the edge of the bed gripped, she resisted the temptation to unravel and tell him everything; if she knew Orion (and she did), there would most likely have been repercussions that would strike the entire Resistance. **“Are you well? Has the restoration team finished to your satisfaction?”**

_“Yes, they were wonderful…..”_ Perhaps they had been a bone of contention in the orphanage among the constant traffic of Resistance agents but they were there as a perceived apology, an apology accepted by General Organa. _“I am just….. frustrated. I feel like a pariah; Poe has told everyone about our engagement, no one will speak to me….”_ It seemed the timing was perfect.

 

**“You sound like you need a break.”** Face cradled helplessly in an ivory hand, a break hadn’t occurred to her but maybe he was right; just until everything simmered down, at least.

 

_“Maybe…. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea….”_

**“It just so happens, little dove….”** The tell-tale squeak of his chair as he leaned back suggested that he was in his office and at ease. **“That your wedding present will be arriving shortly.”** Only stunned silence so he continued. **“If you are ready and require some time away from the orphanage, which it sounds like you do, have your hospital bag ready and I will collect you within the hour myself.”** How could she refuse? It was everything she had wanted for so long and being delivered at just the right time; she would have been mad to put it off.

 

_“I’ll be ready.”_ She replied with the resolution she had learned from watching and listening to her General; those three words made him ready his position to depart for Yavin 4 as soon as the com call ended. _“There are plenty who can take over from me and are probably preferred at the moment so come as soon as you can.”_

 

**“I will do just that, my rose.”** On his feet and already at the door of his office, the last thing he needed to do was terminate the call lest a lowly Stormtrooper overhear the private conversation. **“I love you.”**

_“I love you too.”_

* * *

 

“Are you alright?! Are you comfortable?! Are you warm enough?!” Sapphire eyes rolled at the excessive concern and how he insisted on marching alongside the gurney with her hand clasped in his; a romantic but cumbersome gesture. “Do you need anything?! An extra pillow?! Perhaps a-“

 

_“Orion, I’m fine.”_ Assumingly, the tranquillity came from the abundance of anaesthetic that Audin deemed necessary for the procedure. _“I’m just…. tired.”_ It wasn’t long after that before he was devastatingly forced to relinquish her hand as she was swept away beyond the double doors and into the only part of the ship where (at that moment and for the next few hours) he was not permitted to be – the operating theatre.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The subsequent hours dragged. With no way of being close to her for assurance (for her or for him), the most effective and useful place for him to be was the bridge; well, it should have been. With so many uncertainties, potential risks and his paranoid mind, Orion was distracted and lax; more so than he had been in a long time and it did not go unnoticed. Lost in his own expansive mind and oblivious to the goings on around him, there was no question that he would have been useless in the event of an emergency but thankfully, one didn’t occur in the depths of his fragility. So enrobed in the fraught blanking of his mind, the buzzing of his com seemed louder and more insistent than it usually did; causing him to jump and much to the curiosity of the surrounding staff.

 

“Well…..?” He inquired, terror-stricken, with legs like jelly after the seemingly endless walk to the med bay where Dr Audin was washing his hands. “Was it successful? Is she alright? Are there-?”

 

“Everything is fine.” Audin replied, tired but pleased as the droid dried his hands with billows of hot air; Hux did everything in his power not faint out of sheer relief. “Everything went as well as we could have hoped; she’s in recovery now and will be for a while.”

 

“May I see her?” The General asked meekly, almost pleading while the medic noted the effect this young woman had on a usually stern, rigid and emotionless man. “It’s imperative I see her….”

 

“She’s asleep at the moment; the anaesthetic still hasn’t worn off.” Gown discarded and cap removed, he clearly needed rest. “But if you’d like to sit with her, I’m sure her nurse won’t mind.” Of course, a nurse had been set aside for Lucilla and Lucilla only; only the best care for the General’s fiancé and future mother of his line. “I’ve set out a meal plan and before she’s discharged, I will speak to the two of you regarding care going forward.” Shifting from side to side, Audin waited but could not voice his need and waited on the General’s mercy to grant it.

 

“Thank you, Doctor.” The redhead uttered, inattentive, as he glanced down the ward and peered around the corner to where he was sure he would find her. “We both appreciate your efforts. You’re dismissed until tomorrow until such time as you are fully rested; we will have plenty need of you, I’m sure.” With murmurs of thanks, the medic disappeared and Hux wasted no time in finding his dark-haired darling.

 

_“It’s done, little dove.”_ His hand found hers once more from his perch at the side of the bed as elated whispers regaled her of their success. Peaceful and resting, he could almost swear a little smile pulled at those sallow cheeks; despite the medical equipment attached to and surrounding her to ensure her stability and initiate recovery. The kiss to her head served as a grounding for his excitement; if only she was awake to share it with him. _“Now all we need to do, my love; is wait.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it's been so long! Do review!


	33. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucilla recovers from her surgery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do review!

On the rare occasion (he could count the instances on one hand) that General Orion Hux took personal time, he always spent it off-ship. The most notable of those times was when he swept his beloved to Naboo and while the most recent occurrence was too spent with her, it was also spent _on_ the ship.

 

 _“And how long do I have you for before I have to relinquish you to the bridge?”_ Awake, (barely) alert and resting, Lucilla was still serene but that was put down to the effect of the painkillers. He was there when she awoke from surgery and since then, the stream of kisses, adoring nuzzles and devoted mumbles had been constant. Orion didn’t answer immediately; too enveloped in the current stroking of his nose up and down her cheek.

 

 _“I will maintain my presence on the bridge while you rest.”_ He replied in a reverent murmur, keeping his voice low out of consideration. _“While you are wakeful, I will not leave your side until you are well enough to return to the orphanage, at least.”_ He paused. _“Even at that, I would rather you did not.”_ Internally, Lucilla uneasily wondered how welcome she would be in the midst of the Resistance after this. The atmosphere had been tainted after her confrontation with Poe but with some level of loyalty (even if it was merely personal) to the General confirmed, she could only assume the situation would deteriorate. To voice that to Orion though….. He would be relentless in persuasion and punishment, until she remained on Finalizer and the Resistance felt the burn for upsetting his little dove.

 

 _“Hopefully in the next day or so-“_ He continued, stirring her from the dread of the Resistance. _“You will be discharged from here and they will move you to our quarters where you can rest properly; if you decide to have a nurse at your disposal whilst there, is entirely up to you.”_

_“Dr Audin has said he’s pleased with my recovery already.”_ There wasn’t much of a basis of recovery just yet but if it was something to encourage her, he would let her have it. _“I might not need a nurse; I would feel terrible if there was one needed down here but she was wasted at my beck and call instead.”_ Trust his darling Lucilla to be so considerate. _“The refresher is only a few steps from the bed, I’m sure I could manage….”_

_“You have had rather serious surgery, my love.”_ He countered, noticing her eyelids started to falter again like they had done under the anaesthetic; his cue to return to the bridge until his com would alert him to her wakefulness once more. _“But you know best. We can speak to Dr Audin when he comes around. Rest now; I’ll return as soon as you rouse again.”_ With another tender peck to her forehead, the General departed to let her sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

The Knight and the General had not discussed Lucilla in the two years of her absence; in fact, the redhead had made a conscious effort to avoid any mention of her at all costs. When he and Ren were (grudgingly) reunited after Starkiller, the prospective conversation had vexed him but alas, it never came. Perhaps Ren knew the outcome of Tatooine and (for some unfathomable reason) decided not to torture his reluctant colleague with it. When Orion arrived on the bridge, Ren was there. Sedate and staring ahead to the bay viewport as he had a new habit of doing (he couldn’t help but ponder what the Knight’s ‘final training’ had entailed to produce _this_ result), the General sidled nearby to resume his command.

 

“How is she?” It came from nowhere, that unentitled question; but rather than react with outrage and enflame the situation like he had done before, he decided to be civil. After all, Lucilla might have had a very different fate if not for Ren. He had indirectly saved her life, not directly but contributed massively to the feat nonetheless, even if it was only by uttering a single word.

 

“She is well, mercifully.” He responded, curt but mild and monitored the side of the pale face a few feet from his for a tell-tale reaction. “Resting now after successful surgery.” Ren showed nothing; no relief, no joy, no sadness or anger. Emotionless, he stared ahead to the endless galaxy and Orion resigned himself to not receiving an answer until...

 

“Good news, indeed.” The General bit the inside of his cheek; it would be a lie to declare he had never scrutinized the Knight's motives all those years ago before he was handed over to the Supreme Leader and still come up short of an explanation. The charity had grated at him; not the act itself, he was more than grateful for that but the _reasoning_ tormented him.

 

“Why?” The first peek at anything other than deadpan rustled in Ren’s features: Curiosity. Rather than disguise it or even try to, he embraced it openly and turned to face his military counterpart where he was met with defiance.

 

“Why?”

 

“Tatooine.” Hux clarified staunchly as he managed not to spit and clinging to his civil demeanour, no matter how it threatened to slip. “I know _how_ you did it, you have imparted that before but what I do not know is _why.”_

 

“Does it matter why?” Ren inquired smoothly, almost boldly, as he marked the man who so desperately (and understandably) wanted to give his beloved everything. “I would have thought having her back would have been enough for you, why do you need to know why?”

 

“Is it guilt, Ren?” The General hissed, keeping his voice low and his surroundings in mind; not for the Knight’s sake but his constant striving to keep Lucilla as private as possible. “Are you familiar with that concept? Guilt?”

 

“I am aware of guilt.” The black-clad male swept closer until they were almost nose to nose, as many times before; challenging and volatile. “My actions were not born of _guilt_ , they were born of _pity_. That pathetic creature would have died for sure either in the compound in the heat or at the hands of her master if I hadn’t done what I did.” Conscious of how close he’d become to both the General and a raw nerve in his own family history, Ren retreated. “I did it neither for you or for her.” Hux had to question that but the (slightly) taller of the two would have the last word before he departed the bridge with his usual dramatics and the redhead would have Lucilla’s security upgraded. “I have a clear conscience, General; but you do not.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Dr Audin has stressed that protein and iron are essential.” Orion had taken the tray from Lieutenant Mitaka at the door and brought it to the bedroom himself; overly protective and almost paranoid now over his delicate mate. The desk in the living area served as a base for him to do the basic preparations; removing the covers from the dishes, allocating her medication and so on while she listened from the open door to the bedroom.

 

“He has instructed folic acid once a day.” Perhaps he had applied some extra pressure in having her discharged from the medbay but it was important that he be able to spend as much time with her as possible before she returned to the orphanage. Naturally apprehensive of the medbay and the potential infections it could breed (despite the rigorous cleaning regime), he would never forgive himself if she contracted something or he did and passed it onto her when she was at her most vulnerable. With that argument won, she was released into the care of her General.

 

Settled in the very centre of the bed, Lucilla’s docile features dropped when her dinner was placed on the bed-tray before her; the sheer volume of food while still heavily medicated made the dark haired darling uncomfortable.

 

 _“Orion…..”_ Plicto steak, Corellian potatoes, gravy and a selection of vegetables imposed on her and while it was not in her nature to be (or even seem) ungrateful; there was too much for the General’s fiancé to stomach. _“I don’t think I can eat all this….”_

“Eat what you can, little dove.” He encouraged, easing his feet and perching himself at her side. “If it is not to your liking, I will send for something else but whatever you do not eat, will not go to waste.” Too kind and generous, he knew that to be her concern; that someone else would go without while she left food on her plate. Uncertainly, she picked up the knife and fork and began to saw at the plicto steak while ignorant of the value of the delicacy. In the few times that she’d had such a dish, there was always a little block of pink in the middle but not this time. Raw meat, of any description, was not an option.

 

“He said you need to be kept warm, clean and comfortable.” Orion sat back to maximize the closeness with his future wife, keen to be as near as possible for as long as possible to sate the ache of being separated when she left. “And your stitches should be checked twice daily; any weeping or excessive redness should be reported.” Fortified milk waited in a tall glass before a dainty hand partially encircled and lifted it to wash down the first bite of steak and the accompanying pill.

 

 _“I’m in excellent hands.”_ She remarked with gentility with the soft smile he loved so much to match as she poked apart a large potato to make it easier to spear. _“It’s delicious.”_ Such attentiveness did not come naturally to the General; standoffishness and selfishness had been bred into him as an Imperial man but she had already dismantled that stereotype in Orion Hux even if it had taken sacrifices on her part. With that in mind (and Ren had been correct in his accusation of guilt), he had willingly and gladly taken on the role of rehabilitator to ensure she was cared for to his standard. His methodical mind was adept at time keeping, ideal for timing medication. His standard first aid training meant he knew how to tend to a wound, even if it was surgical and not sustained in battle. His borderline OCD for cleanliness promised their quarters were more hygienic than the medbay and the lack of traffic stemmed any risk of afflictions to the mother of his children.

 

The custody was enhanced, of course, by the genuine feelings and devoted love he held for the little creature in the bed. Without complaint, he helped her intimately like relieving herself and did the various things that would have disgusted other Imperial men who would turn their wife’s charge to a nurse. Not Orion. When pried from his commanding duties, Orion was the ultimate nurse.

 

“Eat what you want, little dove.” He reminded her placidly with little more than a few inches between them while she satisfied herself in the plate’s variety. “But do save room for dessert.”

 

* * *

 

 

The day of parting, nearly three weeks after her surgery, eventually came; much to the General’s disappointment. He would never admit to the extra steps taken to keep her on Finalizer a little bit longer than necessary; like insisting on time-consuming stitches instead of laser healing or bacta patches or quietly intimidating Dr Audin to keep putting off discharge. Unfortunately, when she could move freely without pain or hesitance, he had no choice but to release her to the orphanage. As when he’d collected her, he used another chunk of personal time to bring her to the orphanage himself though dared not venture too close to the premises and bade her goodbye in the same place as after her arrest. In those almost three weeks, their engagement and subsequent marriage had been discussed and it had been decided that it was better to wait until the new organ adapted to its new environment in case of an accidental and premature pregnancy; no contraception was 100% reliable, after all.

 

His post-separation demeanour was the same as before; distant and out of touch with everything going on around him while submerged in his longing pining. He had all the more reason to be perturbed now; even though she had recovered exceptionally well, he still feared her to be too fragile. The silent but demanding vibrating of his com device in his breast pocket (he made a habit of keeping it on his person since their engagement) and went unnoticed for a moment or so. However, when he did manage to drag himself from his melancholic wallowing and lift the device from its confines, his heart skipped a beat. Why was she coming him only an hour after he’d returned her home?

 

“Lucilla?” Out in the privacy of some cranny in the corridor, Orion answered the call and while he had already been worried, it was about to double.

 

 ** _“Orion!”_** The wail from the com receiver made his stomach drop and immediately, his anxious, frantic pacing began.

 

“Little dove?! What’s the matter?!”

 

**_“They’ve turned me away! They told me…. I’m not welcome anymore! They won’t let me…. say goodbye to the children! They-!”_ **

****

“Lucilla, calm down, my love!” It was all well and good to tell her to “calm down” but with the panic bubbling within him as well, Orion was tossed into disarray.

 

**_“I’m outside! They won’t let me back in!”_ **

****

“Alright, darling…..” With a calming breath taken and automatically soothing himself in the process, he took charge of the situation. “Stay there, do not move and I will be with you as soon as I can.”

 

**_“Please hurry, Orion; I’m cold, it’s starting to rain!”_ **

****

“Find shelter, my rose; I’ll be with you soon!” With the com hung up in a hurry, he didn’t waste time by handing over command; rather, he darted straight for his shuttle.

 

* * *

 

 

 _“They just…. Ejected me!”_ The heart wrenching sob tore at him as he clung her to his chest in the bedroom of the ship. With her wet clothes tossed aside, her frail form bundled instead in a blanket and her hair wrapped in a towel; she was a miserable sight. _“After everything I’ve done! After all the sacrifices I’ve made! And the children!”_

 

“I know, little dove….” He agreed gently, cradling her and placing supportive kisses at every opportunity; anything to make her feel better. “It’s inexcusable, it’s unforgiveable.”

 

_“Take me home…. I can’t stand to even be in the same system as them!”_

“Home…..” He repeated, hoping for clarification but she seemed too devastated to give it. “As in Finalizer, little dove?”

 

_“Yes, I’d like a bath…. And something sweet….”_

“If you give me a moment in the cockpit, my darling, I will organize just that.” He managed to detach himself from her but promised himself that the severance would be minimal until the task was completed. A bath to be run and a selection of desserts to be delivered to their quarters and all before they even touched down in the landing bay.

 

* * *

 

 

“Come, darling.” He helped her over the threshold to the place she wanted most to be; where she had felt so safe and loved for the last three weeks or so. Ever so carefully, he helped her into the bath and rather than leaving her, he put down the lid of the toilet and seated himself for company as she gratefully soaked. “You’re home at last, my love. You needn't fret now, you will _always_ be appreciated here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to get to Matched or As Useless As Each Other next!


	34. Door Codes and Boredom Breakers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations are made for Lucilla's long-term return to Finalizer, Kylo Ren tests the General's patience and another visit to Naboo.

General Orion Hux hesitantly left his beloved dried, in bed and perusing the dessert cart parked at her side; but preparations needed to be made if she was going to return on a long term (and hopefully permanent) basis. Naturally, he did so willingly and gladly, even if he did look back more than necessary as he left. He needed to order meals of quality to nurture her recent procedure, order new clothes (he did falter when maternity clothing occurred to him but decided against it just yet) and ponder materials to make their quarters less _boring._

 

“Your duties will be similar to before….” Mid-stride, Hux paraded one of the many corridors of Finalizer (where privacy was guaranteed) with no particular destination in mind but Mitaka was well adept at matching his superior’s pace. “Fetching her meals, her laundry and removing those respective things when required.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Lucilla is no longer a captive.” The General stopped suddenly to face his Lieutenant and thankfully, Mitaka was tuned in enough to cease his march too. He had given it a great deal of thought. Lucilla had become accustomed to freedom of movement in the orphanage and if he wished to keep her there, he must match that freedom; even if her safety concerned him. “She is my fiancé; my wife to be, the mother of my children and she will be treated as such.” As though such a menial task were his calling in life, Mitaka’s loyalty never wavered in it; as noted by the General.

 

“Of course, sir.” Satisfied, Orion resumed his step, confident that Mitaka would follow.

 

“She will not be restricted to our quarters, despite my reservations.” There was a bite of reluctance in that confession but if he could trust anyone, he could trust his loyal Lieutenant. “I cannot cage her like I did before. Now, if you will excuse me, Lieutenant; I must check on my fiancé.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You needed rest.” He observed quietly when her eyelids finally lifted, when azure met ice. She was where he’d left her, settled on her side of the bed (that had never stopped being her side in her absence) in an abundance of tranquillity with an empty plate on the bedside table. Perched lightly at the edge, a recently ungloved hand caressed the midnight kinks to aid her as she blissfully hovered between slumber and wakefulness; wading from one to the other. “Do you have a chill? Will I summon a medic?”

 

 _“No, I’m fine.”_ Twisting her body slightly to accommodate a stretch, Lucilla was not immune to her husband-to-be’s adoring watch and it was all too easy to forget he was still ten years her senior. _“I don’t think I was wet or cold for long enough; the bath may have been my saving grace.”_ Fully awake now but utterly relaxed, Lucilla shared the devoted gaze and returned the light press of his lips against hers. _“Where did you get to?”_

“Things to be done, little dove.” He countered softly with her hand safely in his gentle grasp; that, too, received a kiss. “Preparations to be made for your long-term comfort; ordering new clothes, your meals, boredom breakers and organizing your door codes.” Endearing curiosity piqued, Lucilla shuffled upwards in the bed; or as much as Orion would permit with concern fresh since she left Yavin 4.

 

 _“Door codes? Orion, I don’t-“_ Her General was resolute in how he approached and steered the situation plainly. Once again, she challenged his nerve with little more than an innocent tilt of her head; regiment was in his blood but she was always the exception to that very stoic rule.

“After much reflection, Lucilla….” He began levelly, certain in his stance and after much deliberation, he felt it was only right to erase the limitations he had placed on her from the moment she arrived as a pleasure slave. “Our relationship has changed significantly since you first set foot here; as much as it could possibly have changed, in fact.” Lucilla allowed him the pause, intrigued. “You are no longer a slave, a pleasure object or even a companion in the capacity that you once were; in the purest sense, perhaps but not as you were.”

 

“With that in mind and assumingly, leaving not being your priority, little dove; I have decided that you are not to be confined to our quarters, but free to wander Finalizer if and when you choose.” Clearly unexpectant of a statement of such magnitude, Lucilla stared with the barest ghost of a simper tugging at the corner of her lips.

 

 _“If you’re sure….”_ Lucilla hesitated, as if a dawning realization had just struck her; encroaching on the good news. _“But…. What of Kylo Ren?”_ It had occurred to him and as of yet, a solution evaded him. The Knight still prowled the ship but aside from enquiring into Lucilla’s progress after the surgery, he had displayed no interest in her.

 

“I do think, darling; and this is just from my own observations, that Ren may be remorseful for what happened all those years ago.” Inquisitiveness roused in those bewitching features again; it would be a huge benefit to be able to roam. She could walk him to the bridge in the morning, wait for him there in the evening and meet him somewhere in between during his lunch hour; all without worry about the Knight, if he was truly penitent, of course.

 

“Actually, little dove; if I am to be completely honest….” Straightening on the bed in a bid to physically prepare himself, Orion felt it was only fair to tell her the truth; she and Ren may be more receptive to each other if she knew. “I would not have found you on Tatooine if it wasn’t for him.” The quizzical ogle turned to a stare; a reaction for which, he couldn’t really blame her.

 

_“I don’t understand, Orion….. How did-?”_

“He told me before that he “tuned” into you on occasion.” Orion replied calmly, intercepting her before she could get too flustered; the explanation did something of the opposite. The stare adopted something of nausea and, dare he think it, violation. “I believe it was some sort of lecherous obsession at the time but that seems to have changed. He told me where you were. Not by some previous knowledge or by being in cahoots with my father-“ She flinched. “But, and it pains to me to admit it; it seems that the Force had a lot to do with you being found. Not only did he fight through terrible injuries to tell me where you were, he held me there until I found you.” Still unswayed and startled, perhaps she would not be leaving the quarters after all.

 

“He did ask about your wellbeing after the surgery….” Orion continued as sapphire eyes flickered to the side in contemplation. “And from that brief confrontation, I did detect a whiff of guilt but he has not mentioned you since.” That was something, at least. Or was it? Knowing Kylo Ren, he could have been intruding on her subtly while aware of the General watching his exterior movements; he would have been foolish to broach her if that was indeed his play. Somewhat reassured, Lucilla sank back into the collection of feathers she called a pillow to evaluate. She hadn’t factored Kylo Ren in when she had decided to return to Finalizer; Orion had been the only factor she needed to consider and she wouldn’t change her mind but still…. The prospect was unnerving.

 

“My personal time for today is up, little dove.” The redhead informed her attentively, aware he had loaded her with plenty to think about. “The bridge is waiting but I should be no more than a few hours if you would like to rest again.” Leaning forward to the drawer of the bedside table, Orion produced something that sat neatly in the palm of his hand with his fingers coiled around it. “This is a fresh communication device. My personal com details are the only ones in it. If, and it is completely at your discretion; if you wish for your old com to be destroyed lest it be tracked, I will accommodate that for you.” It was certainly tempting and the way she eyed the com in his hand betrayed it.

 

 _“I think I need to sleep on it.”_ The blue eyed beauty declared to the understanding of her fiancé but eyes never leaving the new com. _“I just…. It feels like a lot in one fell swoop.”_

 

“Say no more, my love.” On his feet and body doubled over to kiss her forehead, Orion accepted before rectifying his posture to his full height. “Tonight, we can discuss our impending nuptials. I do not want to seem imposing or pushy but I am very eager to be yours; fully and officially.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Should it have felt like it used to? Being on the bridge and _knowing_ she was waiting to be united when his duties were done? Maybe. He had made it clear that they had evolved as a couple, that their original dynamic no longer existed (perish the thought) and that she was free to do as she pleased. But it still felt the same, even if the context was different. He kept his simmering excitement bundled until the last hour of his command chimed and for the remainder of the time, the little itch of anticipation began to seep in trickles.

 

With half an hour left in his charge, he was tempted to leave early; to hand over the tail end of the adjure to his resident colonel and surprise her with an early return. But trust Kylo Ren to throw that into disarray. With the covertness of a shadow and footsteps just as light, the Knight appeared at his side; scarred face unreadable. The interaction would not be unlike the one they’d had after Lucilla’s surgery; almost exactly the same, right down to the way they stood together.

 

“Is there anything she can tell us?” There had been a few times before when Hux had been taken aback by Ren’s sudden appearance and more so, when he would speak in that brooding growl. Now was one of those times. Facing the same direction and overseeing the bridge from a height, side by side like allies, the General’s head turned ever so scarcely to include the dark male who did not allow him the same courtesy. Ren gave no indication of speaking or even asking a question that required an answer; the seemingly unwavering patience a testament of the Supreme Leader’s training.

 

“I am afraid you will have to expand on that, Ren.” Hux replied testily, once he’d figured out that he had indeed been spoken to and inclined his head even further to glower. “Is there anything she can tell us? Tell us about what?”

 

“Their tactics.” Ren pressed smoothly, unfazed by the General’s borderline incredulity as if it wasn’t all that strange a request. “Their squadrons, their manoeuvres, their hidden bases; useful information, General.”

 

“Lucilla was not privy to such information, she ran an orphanage.” Cynical, he measured his counterpart and recalled how he promised Lucilla that she had been a minimal component in any interaction he’d had with Kylo Ren; that had been turned on its head. “Her knowledge was limited to her purpose. They intentionally and increasingly kept her in the dark when they realized we had rekindled our relationship. Until they isolated and ostracised her completely.” The explanation did not appease.

 

“Is that what she told you?” _Mockery?_ Incensement started to prick at Orion as his jaw twitched but Ren had the audacity to continue his stare ahead and his assuming, snide onslaught. “Do you not think that she has a personal, moral duty to still protect those children and would therefore withhold information from you to do so? Your naivety is worrying, General.” Before he could spill into outrage, Ren finally graced him with the edge of his eyeline; too casual for Hux’s liking. “I think I should speak to her.”

_“I defended you!”_ The redhead hissed; furious, with the proof rushing to his cheeks. Barely conscious of his surroundings and how he was expected to conduct himself in them, he managed restraint. _“I told her you told me where to find her! I told her you held me on Tatooine until I could rescue her! I told her you inquired after her after the surgery! I told her you were repentant!”_

 

“I have already clarified that guilt was not my motive, General.” Ren rebuffed flawlessly; it may not have been a motive but that wasn’t to say the flickers in the previous conversation weren’t genuine. “But if you are more concerned with taking your fiancé’s word at face value than doing your duty, perhaps you should relinquish charge of interrogation to someone less biased. Myself or Captain Phasma, perhaps.”

 

“I would trust Phasma before I would trust you and we both know Phasma is a brute at the best of times!” Reviled that his loyalty and competence were being questioned by a man who destroyed control rooms for a hobby, Orion decided it would be sensible to end what was left of his bridge time early. “She is disgusted with how she was treated, she would turn over any information gladly as long as she was assured the orphanage remained unharmed!” Preparing for departure and a last-minute challenge, nostrils flared and hackles raised; the General half pivoted on the spot before delivering one more snarl. “And if she does have anything of use, I will extract it myself and not in an interrogation chair!”

 

* * *

 

 

“Your dress arrived.”

 

One week and without another word from Ren, it was more pre-marital conversation while he folded his own uniform and she waited in bed with her (own) holopad.

 

 _“Orion, I told you a dress wasn’t necessary_.” Lucilla tutted but the stirrings of a sweet smile made him glad he’d applied her measurements to something more symbolic than everything else he'd ordered. _“I don't need a fancy dress to marry you.”_

“Perhaps not but....” Orion paused his counter to allow himself to clamber into bed and find a favourable position to bed down at her side. “It would be something to keep, a novelty for years to come.” A fair argument and Lucilla had little to be sentimental with, given her beginnings in poverty and having even less in the compound. She had lost all her belongings on Starkiller and Finalizer, only for her depravation to be reset on Tatooine; maybe to start afresh with a wedding dress would be something of good luck. And something to show her daughters. “I will have it brought up in the morning; the crate arrived late and needed to be searched.”

 

 _“Crate?!”_ Lucilla yelped, dropping the holopad in the tenting of the sheets over where her legs were crossed. Orion shuffled closer with amusement. _“How big is the dress?!”_

 

“Not huge.” He conceded, enjoying the stunned expression. “But the materials are delicate and I wanted to ensure plenty of room for travel.”

 

 _“I see….”_ Playfully sceptical with an adapted eyebrow arched, Lucilla stayed her course while her fiancé inched closer. _“And how much did this dress cost?”_

“That is for me to know….” The provider teased until their lips were mere millimetres apart. “And for you to ponder.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

In her darkest moments after Starkiller, when she didn’t know where she was or what was going to happen next, Lucilla remembered the waterfall. Whether it was the sterile austerity of Admiral Hux’s quarters or on the sand choked lots of Tatooine, the playful splash of the waterfall inspired strength in seemingly broken creature. Bittersweet and all as it had been that she had shared that slice of paradise with the man that had betrayed her, she had nothing else. The smell of the flowers, the cooling caress of the water, the curious intrusion of the fireflies; it helped her overcome one of the loneliest and most testing periods of her life.

 

It was only fitting, therefore, that they return there for a very special purpose. Those memories of such perfection would take a back seat as the second most idyllic; frolicking by the waterfall and making love on the bank was wonderful but getting married at said waterfall was breath-taking.

 

Much like Lucilla was when Orion clapped eyes on her in the dress he’d painstakingly teased out with an exceptionally patient seamstress. Long, and light but not as ostentatious as she’d dreaded; it was indeed something she would keep, treasure and show her children when they were old enough to understand.

 

Orion coughed into his fist; to hide the grin and reroute his emotions, or at least try to. The waterfall’s stream greeted her like an enthusiastic guest; waving as the droplets sparked off rocks below, whooping in its natural rush of flow and blowing kisses that randomly landed on the bank. Not as nervous as she’d thought she would be; Lucilla, unlike her intended, did not smother her emotions and beamed at all around her.

 

Though it was just the two of them and their waterfall, it was all they wanted. What did they need with hundreds of unfamiliar guests, a ridiculously lavish banquet and an extravagantly decorated venue (all the norm of an Imperial wedding, she understood) that could easily be highjacked? In short, they didn’t; which was why just those two in somewhere that meant the galaxy to them both was more than they could ask for.

 

Hand in hand, he lead her to the bank; to their only witness. Lost in wonderment, Orion planted a chivalrous kiss to the ivory knuckle he clutched, as if fearful she would slip away; she did not. Just as sure as he, her stance was equally as certain that _this_ was their destiny. The tedious, official data had been imprinted and sent away to a maze of bureaucracy, never for the couple to think about again but this…. This was for them. To hell with officialdom; the only legitimization of marriage they required was their first, sealing kiss by their waterfall on Naboo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do review!


	35. The Dreadnought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Cannedy presents his schematics of the dreaded Dreadnought to General Hux.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the comments, Kudos, subscriptions and bookmarks! All very much appreciated!

Orion woke to panic. Or did he wake fully at all? Partially, it seems, when he roused and suddenly, his wife was gone. As if he’d only just noticed the empty space and the light emanating from beneath the door of the refresher; Orion shuffled onto his backside, checked the time and waited. 5.00am: half an hour before he was due to rise anyway.

 

Three months since their private wedding on Naboo and word had spread like wildfire from no one. The evening they returned to Finalizer in time for his command the next morning, they were scarcely off the ship before he was informed that a com call waited. It appeared his father’s spy network spanned deep into harmless bureaucracy and the name had sent stylist-pushers scurrying when it entered the system. Needless to say, Brendol Hux was not pleased and commed his son upon the revelation to broadcast that displeasure.

 

The official marriage was delayed but that mattered little to a blissfully happy couple, especially when fate prevailed and it powered through to grant the holo-cert that made it legitimate to everyone else. Now though….

 

“Lucilla?” This was the third time; that morning and twice the morning before that. Rushing suddenly in a tossing flurry of sheets and a hurried scraping of the door, it was no secret what she craved the privacy for.

 

 _“I’m fine!”_ Came the choked, strained reply after a few moments of tell-tale coughing and spluttering. _“I’m…. I’m fine; I’m coming.”_ Still, Orion waited; sitting up and anxious until she appeared, white-faced with her midnight locks strewn over one shoulder.

 

“This is the third time.” As if she didn’t know. Lucilla hovered near the door with the taste of toothpaste fresh in her mouth, almost shamefaced; like she had confused concern for disappointment and disgust.

 

_“I know…. I’m sorry….”_

“It is not an apology I want, Lucilla; I want you to see a medic.” Realizing he had been too abrupt after being woken without warning; now, he implored her. “This is the second morning in a row, Darling; I simply detest seeing you in any sort of discomfort.” With a prick of guilt for the perceived overreaction, Orion fixed the pillows thrown asunder and gathered back the sheets she’d rumpled in her haste; little actions to entice her back to bed. “Come, love. Please.”

 

Uncertain, she re-paced the pilgrimage to the bed, to where he waited with open arms and an apologetic air.

 

 _“I’m sorry I woke you.”_ Lucilla sighed, slotted to Orion’s side while two command-strong arms enveloped her and brought her closer to his chest. _“You’re supposed to be getting up in a little while, that last half an hour is crucial….”_

_“You worry too much, little dove.”_ The consoling kiss to her temple did the trick to reassure her; dropping his voice out of consideration for his wife’s delicate ears as he rocked her carefully. _“I will send for a medic as soon as I get to the bridge; I doubt I would be able focus without the reassurance that you’re alright.”_

_“Very well…”_

_“And you need not walk me to the bridge.”_ He added, holding her firm when she stiffened out of protest; he wanted her to break a favourite habit of six months old?! _“I would prefer you to rest until the medic has given you the all clear.”_

When he got up a half an hour later to shower and dress, Lucilla watched dolefully and stayed grudgingly; accepting the parting kiss without moving, like the norm before Starkiller blew.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Little more than an hour after Orion left, Lieutenant Mitaka arrived with her breakfast and a gentle explanation of when she was finished, that she was to accompany him to the medical bay. It seemed an in-house visit would not be sufficient when Dr Audin learned the identity of the patient; the General’s wife who’d had a uterine transplant just over four months previous. Cloaked, with an entourage of the Lieutenant and two armed Stormtroopers, Lucilla did as requested.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“And everything has been fine?” Dr Audin pressed once Lucilla had presented herself, the Stormtroopers had disbanded and Mitaka waited loyally outside to be dismissed or sent to find the General.

 

The standard examination table would not do for this particular patient, fragile and all as she was. Instead, she occupied a bed reserved for more _prominent_ guests; a similar one she had occupied after her surgery, in fact.

 

 _“Perfect.”_ She countered while he flicked through his holopad for answers; jumping between recent test results and her old file, looking for something that stood out. _“Never better.”_

 

“You’ve been feeling well? Aside from these little bouts? Are there any patterns that you’ve noticed?”

 

_“No, I’ve been normal; very much so. I feel fine right up until I get sick and fine after it, no ill feeling to forewarn me.”_

 

Audin nodded without taking his eyes from the data file, but still at a loss.

 

 _“I'm not overly concerned.”_ She continued, mirroring her sentiments in tone. _“But Orion is worried...”_ Audin didn’t outwardly react to his superior being called by his closely-guarded first name or the fact that the ruthless, emotionless lump of callousness was worried about the wife he adored. But Audin didn't doubt it, he'd seen it before. _“I’m assuming I just ate something that didn’t agree with me yesterday or the day before... We dined separately yesterday, you see.”_

“It could easily be a bug.” Audin half agreed, lifting his spectacles to rub the bridge of his nose. “Food poisoning, not so much. There is one more test I'd like to do before I discharge you completely. Though I sincerely hope it comes back negative.”

 

* * *

 

 

How does one be subtle when they’re trying to gain another's attention? Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka had it down to a tee.

 

“The Dreadnought is not only on schedule, it's surpassing all our estimations in the smaller components also.” Captain Cannedy, a robust and heavy faced man whose accent wasn’t quite as clipped as his colleagues, paused in his status report to General Hux. “The ones we expected would need more fine tuning; the micro-computers and the like. All progressing better than initially proposed.”

 

“Excellent.” The bridge served as the meeting point with not a lot of time afforded. Captain Cannedy preferred to return to the Dreadnought’s construction site with little delay but still had the foresight to present the data to the General in person. “They won’t outrun us now. Fleet killers... That’s what they'll call them.” Hux paused, internally impressed with the advanced condition of the schematics projected from the table top. “And the hyperdrive tracking systems? Have the modifications been applied?”

 

“…..One of very few setbacks.” Cannedy admitted hesitantly under the General's interrogative glare. “Our top engineers are sparing no effort or time in ensuring it’s perfect.” Placating Hux was imperative. “It’s a difficult feat, as I'm sure you can appreciate and while progress is slow, it’s certainly sure-“

 

“Offer incentives.” Hux intervened, eyes lifting from the Dreadnought’s anatomy to glance Lieutenant Mitaka hovering nearby before re-immersing himself in the diagnostics. “A significant salary boost to the engineer who makes the breakthrough; we shall see how quickly it’s done then. What is it, Lieutenant?” Naturally, Cannedy turned too to see what could be as important as the Dreadnought.

 

“You’re required in the medbay, sir.” Mitaka answered placidly, hands clasped behind his back in the appropriate was to answer his superiour. Disdained, Hux sighed, clearly unaware of the reasoning or the magnitude.  

 

“What is it?”

 

“It’s your wife, sir.” Instantly ripped from the juggernaut of a battleship, Hux was piqued and the Captain was curious. Brisk, booted footsteps pivoted from the table to lessen the distance between him and his Lieutenant while he tried to maintain a professional and stoic demeanour. Still, panic clawed and he fought to keep his mask from slipping.

 

“Did something happen?!”

 

“I was not privy to that information, sir. She just asked me to fetch you.” _She just asked…._ She must have been alright…. Or maybe she wasn’t…. What if it was some awful disease where she coughed his name on her deathbed?! What if-?!

 

“Very well…. You’re dismissed, Lieutenant.” Calling down the holoprints of the Dreadnought while Mitaka left, Hux turned to the overly curious Captain Cannedy. “Thank you for your time, Captain; I appreciate the personal presentation but if you’ll excuse me, there is a pressing matter in the medbay.” Cannedy opened his mouth but the General was already halfway off the bridge, calling as he went. “I will expect another briefing in one standard week!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Lucilla!” Charging into the medbay with a little less decorum than he would have liked, Orion had only one focus and alarm sang when he didn’t see her immediately. “Lucilla?!” He rounded on the rustling of a curtain.

 

“In here.” Audin stepped out and held the fabric aloft for the General to step past him; to swap places and, ultimately, give them privacy. Face unreadable, the doctor waited to relinquish his grasp; something Orion took instinctively until he found himself in the cordoned space with enough room for a chair and a bed.

 

“Little dove….” Orion’s voice _almost_ cracked with relief when he found her sitting up in bed, seemingly unharmed and well but when that enchanting face turned with snail-trail tear stains on her cheeks, he halted. Doing his best to gauge her, the redhead’s approach was slow and measured until the bed restricted him from venturing further; from there, he perched himself close and waited for an explanation. He waited and waited but when he looked down, the closer inspection afforded him another observation; the subtle, scarcely noticeable pull at the corners of her mouth. Just to add to his bewilderment, of course. “Lucilla…. What-“

 

The answer didn’t take the form of words; rather, the soft titters of sweet music from the little creature in the bed while she wiped another stray tear and sniffled her way through it. Cue Orion’s perplexity to deepen. As if his presence completed something wonderful, the dark haired darling leaned back against her beloved’s chest and sighed serenely; staring at nothing in particular.

 

_“I’m pregnant.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do review!


	36. Supremacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orion locks horns with Dr. Audin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so.... I maaaaayyyy have fucked up the timeline a bit here. This isn’t overly spoiler-y but if you want a completely blank slate for TLJ, I would avoid for now. According to my timeline, Rey has been on Ahch-To for over two years so take no notice of that succession! I’m working with pre-TLJ here and in the middle of it, hence the building of the first Dreadnought. Enjoy!

Joy.

Relief.

Elation.

Excitement.

 

And a whole host of other emotions he couldn't even begin to pick out and name clamoured Orion upon those two simple words with massive magnitude.

 

But while emotions were in their overflowing abundance, words were few and far between for the awe-struck General.

 

Instead, his arms enveloped her torso with an amicable kiss placed to her shoulder; her head automatically tilting back to intensify the affection. Still, disbelief crippled him after the utmost vigilance every time they were intimate.

 

_“How did this happen?”_

_“I don’t know....”_ The dream-like tone suggested she didn’t care either. _“He’s not pleased... Dr Audin...”_ Orion’s hand dropped to her midriff, hoping to feel a kick or a heartbeat or _something_ but common sense prevailed that it was too early for such things. Still... _His_ child. The one they had spoken so softly and hopefully of whenever she brushed the scar, purposefully or by accident; in bed, in the shower, undressing...

 

It was no mystery, however, why the medic was displeased; not when they had been warned time and time again about a rest period and caution should abstinence not be an option. Caution had been a priority but clearly not enough when Lucilla’s hand lowered to meet Orion’s guard of her belly; their first united act as parents.

 

_“How do you feel?”_

_“Wonderful.”_ Orion cracked a rare smile.

 

_“I meant physically, little dove.”_

_“Oh…”_ Lucilla took a moment to untangle herself from the utter exhilaration of the revelation; she was deeper than she realized until she tried to bring herself back to reality. _“I’m hungry.”_ The soft chuckle caressed her ear while her cheek became a landing for another adoration-laced kiss.

 

“That will be a somewhat constant state, I would imagine. I’ll see to you getting discharged, my love.” Orion shimmied from behind her while managing to disrupt her comfort as little as possible, already taking charge of her care once more. “Then I shall have food sent up ahead of us.”

 

True to his word, Orion excused himself then embarked on his search for Dr. Audin; eager to have her returned to her own surroundings to be spoiled and pampered. The search was short, for when he pulled back the curtain, he was faced with the consultant almost instantly; as if he was _waiting._ Lucilla’s assessment of _“displeased”_ appeared to be something of an understatement.

 

“I hope you realize how dangerous this is!” The medic began with the shadows of restrained fury (reminding himself all the while of his post and who controlled if he kept it or not) edging into his tone and seeping involuntarily his demeanour. The disregarding of his advice (or the seeming disregarding of it) riling him to toe the line one did not toe with General Hux. “There hasn’t been enough adjustment in the organ! We’ve kept an eye on the menstruation and it’s still not regulated fully! I advise an immediate termin-!“

 

 _“Finish that sentence!”_ The redhead dared him in a seething hiss, swept upon him like a Quohr on prey; teeth bared, eyes feral and pallid features contorted in absolute rage. With no buffering distance between the two now, Audin swallowed but Hux wasn’t finished; he knew he’d crossed an unforgivable line, a career-destroying one. _“I defy you to finish it! But don’t finish it out here; finish it in there and I guarantee to you, Doctor, it is not **I** who will beat you up and down this bay!”_

Shamefaced and defeated, not for his advice or diagnosis but his lack of control; Audin said nothing. Jaw clenched and eyes averted under the General’s savage and unwavering gaze, he knew any say he had in the patient’s welfare would be overridden. Satisfied that there were no micro expressions of defiance, Hux stalked from the stand-off and went about discharging her himself.

 

* * *

 

 

Lucilla had heard most, if not all, of the exchange between her husband and her doctor. Did it worry her? Not as such. She was of a similar mind to Orion; make that awful suggestion to her and she would certainly have put him in his place. Perhaps she wouldn’t have gone as far as to beat him up and down the bay as Orion threatened but that decision would not be for Audin’s benefit; more for the protection of her child when she and it were at their most delicate.

 

So it was no surprise to her when her General re-appeared in the cubicle, shoulders rounded aggressively and glancing over said shoulder at regular intervals to be ready should the Doctor return.

 

“I'm removing you from his charge.” Orion forced himself to remain level, to prevent himself taking it out on the wrong person; Lucilla didn’t protest. “There are better medics on Supremacy and we will require larger quarters in any case....” She started to move, carefully, gingerly and more aware though the only difference in then and when she arrived was that she _knew._ There had been no physical changes since; still, Orion ranted as she saw to herself.

 

_“I will speak to the Supreme Leader, I’m sure he will be more than accommodating....”_

 

From that thoughtful brooding to....

 

**“How dare he?! He knows how we have yearned for this...!! He swore to do what it would take!! Jumped up quack!!”**

From that sudden, attacking spurt to…

 

“Are you ready, little dove?” She tuned into the last one just in time rather than brush it off like the rest. Having re-dressed (or having reapplied the minimum that she’d shed for the examinations), she was, indeed, ready to leave and had done so herself without assistance. The benevolent nod was all the prompting he needed to take her arm and lead her from that poisonous place; straight past Audin.

 

 **“The rules of science and medicine don’t bend for you!”** The bespectacled medic bellowed at the General’s back. **“Or how much money you have to throw at it!”** The Doctor had to have his last, bold say; knowing the damage was done. Hux slowed to a pair of Stormtroopers stationed nearby when his last nerve frayed.

 

_“Take him to the detention block until my mood changes.”_

* * *

 

****

**_“Your wife…?”_ **

****

That silky dissection of the General’s humble request was teased out, almost tasting the words of a personal nature.

 

“Yes, Supreme Leader.” Servile, he was eager to please and, even more so, provide a safe and comfortable environment for his wife and child; where better than on the very destroyer that housed the Order’s overseer? On bended knee in the throne room on Supremacy, he faced his master but, like Lucilla, never looked him directly in the eye. That practice had been suspended years ago for his little dove but Hux was still expected to observe and obey it. “She is with child and-“

 

**_“With child?”_ **

****

“Yes, Supreme Leader. Less than six weeks or so we believe.” Hux wet his lips to renew his conviction in the undertaking; it would require generosity on his master’s part. “But I no longer trust the medic I previously entrusted her care to. Our quarters, too, will soon be outgrown-“

 

**_“So you wish to move her here.”_ **

****

Hux hesitated with Snoke so unreadable. It could go one of two ways, very good or very bad but he had come this far, it would be nought but cowardice to refuse to go any further.

 

“If you in all graciousness would allow it, Supreme Leader. It would be the beginning of a new generation; the first to reap the rewards of a stable and structured galaxy under the control of the First Order, born on this very ship….” The words of pandering had an effect; the first noticeable movement since he arrived. Hux braced himself, expecting to be swept sideways or thrown towards the door but the disfigured puppeteer merely sat backwards, mulling.

 

 ** _“Very well.”_** Hux breathed a sigh of relief that only he was privy to; he hoped. **_“But I wish to meet this wife when she has settled and been introduced to her new medical staff. After all, it wouldn’t do to be an inhospitable neighbour, would it?”_**

****

* * *

 

****

The next day, the droids moved around her, quicker and more adept at the task at hand. Lucilla was careful and she was sentimental, respectful and mindful of history; her history. Every now and then she would abandon packing in favour of a serene saunter around the apartment that was only meant to house one. From the bed she’d lost her virginity on (not in), the same one she assumed her child had been conceived in (not on). The rug in front of the fireplace that would shortly be rolled up and placed with the rest of their moveable belongings; the very rug she had slept on before she earned her place in the bed, the one where Orion had sacrificed his pleasure for hers for the first time too. Not to mention the vanity table, the one purchased specially for her, the one that held her prized human skull; both packed away as well.

 

Still, she looked to the future and a maternal touch to her stomach reminded her that not only new memories but more important ones would be forged on Supremacy, her new home where she would (hopefully) meet her baby in safety and peace. And of course, Orion would need to return to Finalizer on occasion and there was nothing to stop her going with him once the apartment was refurbished to replace the items they’d taken.

 

With the living quarters stripped of familiarity and the last few furnishings cleared out around her, the only thing of left of any huge importance waited at the door; patient to ensure her cloak was warm enough and her belly was sufficiently covered – Orion.

 

 _“Come, little dove.”_ Always mindful of her delicate disposition, he was gentler (if possible) with the darling creature entrusted to him by an unknown someone he owed a life debt of happiness to. _“Time to leave, the shuttle is waiting.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please do review!!


	37. Little Dove and the Supreme Leader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orion brings Lucilla to her new home on Supremacy before her meeting with Snoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

“Your new quarters, my love.”

 

Belly guarded to the new surroundings, Lucilla edged over the threshold with apprehension and wariness, but Orion stayed close to alleviate her. A gloved hand warmed the small of her back to encourage her forward and reassure her without distracting her from her initial assessment.

 

Sapphire eyes swept the new, larger and more opulent living space already furnished for them and from there, she took her first curious steps. It wasn’t unlike Finalizer and Starkiller, the basic layout was fundamentally the same with the fireplace, a larger viewport accompanied by similar armchairs and sofa. In addition, their new home had other amenities that would have been a pipedream previously.

 

The sprawling lounge included a desk space, a holovision and enough runway for a baby learning to crawl; but most importantly, a second bedroom (which would serve as a nursery), a second bathroom and a compact kitchenette where small meals and bottles could be prepared.

 

“Well?” He prompted as she wandered from his grasp to inspect the place where (hopefully) her child would call home. “What do you think? Is it to your standard?” Lucilla was already surveying the equipment in the kitchenette; she’d been taught how to cook but hadn’t done so in some time.

 

 _“It’s wonderful.”_ She replied with a twinge of astonishment as she peeked down the hallway where both bedrooms and the second bathroom (the first was joined to her and Orion’s room, like on Finalizer) sat waiting to be explored.

 

“There have been some upgrades on our chambers on Finalizer.”  He informed her, somewhat clipped (with work mode still in place) but enthusiastic and went about showing her the improvements. “The viewport, as I’m sure you have noticed, is larger but you won’t be cold, little dove. The fire-“ She breezed to where he stood, to where the fire crackled happily. “is live but it is adjustable, darling. You see, this notch here controls the intensity of the flame. It still takes logs but it is self-cleaning. A fire guard will also be fitted upon the baby’s arrival.”

 

“Our bedroom-“ He continued with the tour and she readily followed down the hallway she had just peered down. “Is here on the left, our bathroom adjoining. Opposite is the second bedroom; a nursery, if you will-“

 

 _“Is our bedroom big enough?”_ Cue a bewildered turn in the usually concrete General until she brushed past him to release the door.

 

“Big enough, little dove?” He queried, borderline perplexed. “Big enough for what?”

 

Lucilla didn’t answer immediately; she was far too taken up assessing the size of the bedroom and found it to be to her standard and catering to what she sought. The bed was of a substantial size, larger probably than on Finalizer and she was delighted to see her vanity table had already been unpacked with Varden’s skull perched atop. The carpet was rich and warm for bare feet venturing to the refresher in the middle of the night.

 

 _“The cot_.” She answered, almost absentmindedly; like his inquiry took a backseat to finding out what she needed to know. _“It seems to be; I can always reshuffle if needs be…. Which side is mine?”_

“Whichever side you decide, my rose.” The puzzlement still weaving into his tone as he watched her pace the room and evaluate it to the extreme. “I would suggest the side closest to the refresher for efficiency for when the baby starts to put pressure on your bladder.” Of course, out of habit, her thumb (on the hand that never left her stomach) stroked where the bump would grow; as she always did when anything of her pregnancy was mentioned. “But the cot, darling…. That will be in the nursery, surely?”

 

 _“If the cot is in the nursery, Orion-“_ She was casual and airy but haughty. _“The baby won’t be in it.”_

 

“I don’t follow, my love….”

 

 _“The baby will be sleeping with me.”_ Straight to the point and final, Lucilla’s pacing ceased and Orion did his utmost not to buckle under the potency of her gaze; not only was she serious, she was determined. _“Cot death is far too prevalent and so, I will not be running that risk. My baby, **our baby** , will be sleeping with us until I am confident that they no longer need or want to. On my chest where I can monitor his or her breathing with ease and attend to them swiftly rather than being blinded by worry all the way across the hall. I flat out refuse.”_

Orion had always striven (or for the most part) to give Lucilla what she wanted; why should he stop now? Her intentions were not only pure but with **their** child’s best interests and health at heart; barely six weeks into her pregnancy and she was already putting many mothers to shame. How he would cope with a raw newborn in the bed, however, was another question. Still, it needed to be asked.

 

“If you’re so resolute in that, little dove, and I admire it immensely; why have a cot at all? Especially in here?”

 

 _“Well, Orion….”_ Mentally, Lucilla measured the space between her side of the bed and the refresher, attempting to decipher if there would be enough room for the crib there. _“I have to put the baby somewhere when I visit the refresher, don’t I? I can’t bring him or her with me, as much as I would prefer it.”_ Poor, innocent Lucilla; so wrapped up in the care of her baby and the consideration of her husband, she didn’t foresee the potential offence her statement would cause.

“I’m sure you could trouble me for a few moments to take the baby while you relieve yourself, Lucilla.” Flatly and with a bite of indignance, he made his complaint known and it was the first thing she took notice of that wasn’t her new environment. Mildly distressed by the oversight, Lucilla managed to open her mouth in a bid to reverse the insult; but that was as far as she got before Orion swooped in again. “It is, after all, my baby too.”

 

 _“There are going to be enough disturbances.”_ She offered apologetically, in an attempt to undo the damage and sweeping to close some of the distance between herself and her arm-crossed husband. _“Regular feeds during the night will impact your sleep as it is; I don’t want to wake you to take the baby on top of it, you’ll be exhausted on the bridge.”_

 

“It’s all part of having a raw baby, little dove.” He explained, with more patience and tenderness when he realized that, as always, she was thinking of him before he was. “I will make allowances for such events when the time comes but I would prefer not to miss any of the experience of it. And why should you do it all alone anyway?”

 

 _“You’re the provider!”_ She tried to implore, feeling that extra ebb of guilt for her reaction when his arms enveloped her waist and brought her closer. _“We wouldn’t have **any** of this if it wasn’t for you! We certainly wouldn’t have the baby and-!”_

“Lucilla.” Before the threatening hysteria could kick in, Orion leaned in and pressed a tranquilizing forehead to that of his wife; the light, soothing pressure worked to sedate her. _“My angel, we’ve been through this…. You deserve absolutely everything I can give you and more.”_ With his personal time dwindling and the argument successfully diffused, Orion needed to leave but before he did…..

 

 _“Your datapad has unrestricted access to the holonet in each room.”_ He told her in a gentle murmur, cupping her cheek when her eyes heightened to his. _“I’ve left my credit chip on the counter in the kitchen; the codes have already been saved to your datapad so you are to order what you wish to make the apartment your own. Retail therapy without leaving the bed, so to speak._ ” How could he not crack a grimace of a smile when she did? Knowing her as well as he did, however, he knew when she was about to protest. _“So I will leave you to that. And remember, little dove; we meet the Supreme Leader tomorrow.”_

* * *

 

 

How is one supposed to compose themselves in the wake of a meeting with a seemingly all-knowing being?

 

One that her husband spoke of with reverence and almost awe?

 

One that apparently had the notoriously wayward Kylo Ren under his thumb?

 

That was a feat in itself and the other stories of his master’s power did nothing to ease the little dove’s thundering heart as the elevator climbed. Their vertical carriage slowed but Lucilla’s pulse drummed and when it stopped completely, her breath shortened.

 

 _“You’re not seeking approval, he already approves of you.”_ Orion reminded her softly before the doors could peel back to unveil the throne room. _“You have nothing to fear, darling; calm yourself.”_ The words had no sooner left his mouth and the doors pocketed themselves into their slots, as if that was their cue.

 

Dingy; that was probably the best way for Lucilla to describe it, when her eyes needed to adjust. The backdrop of scarlet disorientated her somewhat; but at least she had an excuse for the unsteadiness of her footsteps rather than just sheer terror. And that sheer terror shot to another level when a booming drawl erupted from the back but bounced off all crimson walls.

 

**“General!”**

Had Lucilla been allowed, she might have seized up but Orion had other ideas; ideas that involved his guiding hand to resume on her back and nudge her forward. She didn’t remember telling her feet to move but they carried her regardless with a protective hand parked over the still-flat plane of her stomach; a constant state. They ventured in silence to almost further silence; the only exception being their own footsteps that she had suddenly become conscious of. _Why did I wear these shoes, they’re so loud…. How have I never noticed….?_

 

Even in her trepidation, she began to notice things in the cardinal-stained surroundings: like the two torture chairs situated on either side of the throne and the ominous looking implements dangling above them. It was also impossible to ignore the cerise-clad guards (human or not was anyone’s guess) at regular and measured distances from each other; taking up the entire circumference of the room with various weapons rested but ready.

 

However, not the torture chairs or the guards were Lucilla’s biggest reservation. No, that sat atop a throne at the very back and centre of the room, watching her like a hawk and the closer she got, the more she seemed to shrink.

 

Scarred. Mutilated. Dented.

 

He was a humanoid; old, she assumed. But _smiling?_ Was that what that arrangement of his distorted features was supposed to convey? That he was pleased to see her? Still, something unnerved her, grated at her, that something sinister lurked in that carved face.

 

**“Miss Lucilla….”**

 

Gracefully, the yellow-wrapped creature rose and stretched his arms in greeting, as if embracing her from afar. Orion was no longer with her, he had stopped several metres behind to sink to a devoted knee and let his master have a closer look at his wife.

 

 **“My warmest welcomes, child. Welcome aboard Supremacy.”** With the way Orion spoke and if his latest actions were anything to go by, it was probably prudent to follow suit. Instead of taking a knee, she selected to curtesy through her fear but her previous training remained: _Resist eye contact._

**“Remove your hood, little one. There is nothing to hide from here.”** The command was gentle but Lucilla recognized it for what it was: a command, and the sensible thing to do was obey. As if on autopilot, the raven locked female raised her trembling hands and lowered the light but expensive material, clutched between alabaster fingers. She discovered a distortion in that face, like a curiosity had been satisfied to its fullest capacity and even exceeded.

 

 **“A beauty unrivalled, indeed.”** The drone (supposedly directed at her husband) sent chills racking through her tiny form but still, she held herself firm. Lucilla could almost feel the gliding, interrogative gaze of this…. _person?_.... before her; studying her every micro-movement and more. There was a familiarity to his presence, the way he probed her mind without her really noticing; the way Kylo Ren had done the night he’d had his way with her.

 

 **“Tell me, Miss Lucilla….”** The inquest continued conversationally on an oral level, much to the blue eyed beauty’s discomfort. **“Have you met your new medical team? It seemed prudent, and I hope you approve, to put a female medic in charge of that team; someone who is more familiar with female anatomy by actually experiencing it.”**

_“I have….”_ Lucilla squeaked in reply, though she wasn’t sure where she got the strength. To her surprise and Orion’s pride, she became more vocal and certain under the expectant glower of Supreme Leader Snoke. _“I found them to be most competent and diligent and kind…. I trust them with my care completely; as does Orion.”_ Like Dr. Audin, Snoke did not outwardly react to her husband’s name but he did nod along with discoloured eyes intently focused on her and her alone.

 

 **“My fondest congratulations, of course.”** Those words contained the closest things to compassion and sincerity she thought possible in that unsettling voice; even if she did believe his declaration of _fond._ **“It’s a wonderful thing.”** He continued, as if legitimate in his sentiments. **“And where better than here for such a journey to begin? Than on the most powerful and feared warship in the galaxy?”** Slender fingers drummed on the protruding arm of the throne as he scrutinized the expectant mother still; the little creature who, as his General correctly pointed out, would be the beginning of a new generation for the Order. **“And your quarters? They are to your satisfaction, I trust?”**

_“Thank you. Most comfortable.”_ Lucilla confirmed with a little pull of a smile; one Orion wouldn’t have seen but the Supreme Leader definitely did. She’d done as her husband suggested when he left her for the bridge the day previous; ordered things from holo-catalogues to make the apartment homelier. _“I cannot thank you enough, Supreme Leader, for your generosity, consideration and hospitality.”_ Orion felt his stomach flutter; not only was she handling herself well, but his master seemed exceptionally taken and pleased with her. _“Not only are they a wonderful improvement on our Finalizer chambers but for the long-term and looking to the future, I cannot think of a more fitting place to raise a family. Not just this baby, but more to follow if you permit it.”_

Convinced and placated, the Supreme Leader inclined his head past the dark haired darling to his waiting General before shuffling himself in his seat before returning his eyes to Lucilla.

 

 **“Should you ever require anything, Miss Lucilla, you are always most welcome here.”** The pause simmered but she was no longer as tense. **“I understand you have been burned by the Resistance, little one; but as I’m sure your husband will assure you, we reward loyalty here.”**

 

* * *

 

 

Burned by the Resistance indeed. Such a meeting represented a changing of sides; a nailing of colours to the mast, so to speak. Could it be called revenge? Perhaps, perhaps not. Such attentiveness, praise and near adulation to a clearly evil being could positively be construed as such; whether or not she realized it. Her words, her phrasing and her demeanour, not to mention the lengths she went to describe her gratitude did not go unnoticed; not by her husband or his master.

 

Indisputably, she would be blackmarked by the people who represented freedom; one in particular who would receive the news with crushing devastation. Lucilla being Lucilla, however, held no allegiance to either side; despite the meeting she’d just had and how she’d appeased the Supreme Leader. No, Lucilla’s loyalty lay with family and while that might have been Poe and her father once upon a time, it was now her baby and her husband. Everything and anything, she had resolved to do in order to protect them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do review! xxx


	38. Strained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucilla's pregnancy starts showing some strange symptoms; wonderful to begin with but not so wonderful when they get out of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe I accidentally uploaded a chapter to this last week that was for another fic so apologies to subscribers who got an email only to find no chapter!

General Orion Hux knew little to nothing of pregnancy.

 

He knew Lucilla was prone to sickness in the early hours of the morning and ate more than she would have normally but his knowledge remained restricted. Little things like sore breasts, sore feet and a sore back (later in the pregnancy) would be easily solved with heat patches and bed rest. What he hadn't accounted for, however, were the regular bursts of stampeding hormones that drove his wife to absolute distraction.

 

It was a wonderful symptom of an already wonderful situation; for a while, at least. Unofficially, it appeared to be what was referred to as a “horny pregnancy" but when did the General deal in unofficial terms? That said, what else could it be called? When it was demanded routinely and often throughout the day?

 

At the beginning, when the swelling was barely nine weeks old, it came as a welcome surprise that Lucilla was not put off _relations_ by her condition or potential damage to the baby. Their new medic, Dr Reena Covern, had assured her that such a thing was healthy and no harm would come as long as the proper care was exercised; that was all Lucilla needed. So, like every other way that he catered to her, Orion did so without question or hesitation.

 

He set aside a few extra minutes in the morning; only to find she was more than likely awake before him and waiting. It justified his rigorous shower while she dozed off the activity before they both dressed and she walked him to the bridge. Come lunchtime, Lucilla was hungry again for something her approved and improved catered meals would not satisfy so, once more, Orion made it his business to take his lunch hour in the apartment and eat around his wife’s command.

 

His dinner hour was more of the same. At 18.00 sharp, he would arrive at the apartment to find her expectant in more ways than one. By 18.10, he was already exhausted and she was either resting or sitting up with the inside of her cheek pinched between her top and bottom molars; an indication of disappointment or impatience or both.

 

 _“Lucilla, I can’t!”_ The strangled, exhausted protest was met with vexation and a huff of discontent; easily known she was no longer tied to his will or she would have been beaten for sure. Three, maybe four days, since it all began, this glutton, Orion could take no more. That morning, his lunch hour, his dinner hour and now, his off-duty hours, had all been spent the same way until that night when he buried his face in his pillow; weak with debility and almost overwrought. _“I can’t! I physically can’t, little dove….! Please….!”_

_“What is it, Orion?!”_ High-pitched and almost hysterical, the interrogation grated him; not of annoyance but apparent failure. That seemed to be mutual; the concept of “failure”, as if both had done something wrong to affect the other though it was only visible to themselves. Standing over the bed where her husband had discarded himself, an arm-crossed Lucilla looked as if she was on the verge of distressed tears while clad only in the most _decadent_ lingerie. Naturally, Orion didn’t question just how _much_ was being spent on lingerie, despite her having a different set each time he saw her. _“Am I not appealing anymore?! Is it the underwear?! Is it the baby?!”_ Cue the General’s exasperated groan into the pillow until she could be ignored no more and the irrationality hit its peak. **_“Tell me!”_**

****

_“Darling….”_ Slowly and wearily, Orion’s flaming head lifted from the pillow. The bleariness in those icy eyes was far more extreme than it had been in quite a while. _“You look exquisite. You always look exquisite, which is why it’s killing me that I can’t see to you the way you so obviously crave. But three and four times a day; Lucilla, I just can’t keep up anymore…”_ **That** was not good enough for Lucilla. _“Sweetheart!”_ In any other situation, his own pleading whine would probably have bothered him but the way she stuffed herself into her night robe in a huff put his priorities in check. _“Where are you going?!”_

_“I’m going for a walk!”_ Visibly upset (for a reason that seemingly only made sense to her), Lucilla did just that and left her lamenting husband behind her.

 

* * *

 

 

Supremacy was different at night time.

 

It was quieter, far more peaceful; not bustling and busy like when she walked her husband to and from his command centre or when she took a rare amble by herself. The human presence was minimal; with something of a skeleton crew of humans, the bulk of the residency that evening was droids. They ignored her, despite the intrigued glances she swiped them as they passed; by that, she could assume none of them were protocol droids.

 

The corridors were far more bitter than the apartment; particularly when the biting durasteel happened to be under bare feet. Pulling her night robe closer around her frail form; Lucilla did so, not out of prudishness, but protectiveness for her baby and to preserve her body heat. Should she go back? Had she overreacted? Was Orion out looking for her? Or in his office, pouring over live security feed in a bid to find her more efficiently? Would a squadron of Stormtroopers from that sector come thundering down the hallway any second to hold her there until her husband arrived? Whatever the case, Lucilla would more than likely sleep in the spare room; out of sheer embarrassment, if nothing else.

 

With everything so quiet (bar the hum of an occasional mouse droid whizzing past that she might skirt to avoid), it was far easier for the lone female to pick up on sounds close to her. The bubbling of nearby pipes or a far-off announcement didn’t concern Lucilla too much but when the durasteel underfoot started to echo with heavy (booted) footsteps, she closed her eyes and sighed. Caught.

 

Or was she? Before she could turn to address her captors and assure them she would be returning to the apartment of her own volition to avoid a scene, the footsteps started to slow; almost curious. They stopped completely, a few feet behind her, but before she could pivot and at least try to exert some confidence, a scarcely recognizable voice stopped her.

 

“It’s been a long time.” Chilled (and nothing to do with the frigid temperatures of Supremacy), Lucilla had to turn to be sure but soon wished she hadn’t. Stood, staring and towering as always while clad in his signature black, Kylo Ren watched the little dove; inquisitive, but not threatening. Not that that made a difference to Lucilla; despite what Orion had told her. Movement escaped the dark haired darling, unlike Ren who resumed his (gentler) thunking towards her; head bowed and strangely placid.

 

 _“It has.”_ She agreed, grudgingly and hesitant to engage him in conversation; lest he assume contact was wanted.

 

“I hear congratulations are in order.” Finally drawing even with her, Lucilla found it within herself to form a stride; one Ren matched her in without difficulty, even regulating himself to even pace with hers.

 

 _“Of all people for Orion to confide in, I didn’t think you’d be one of them.”_ She growled, miffed at her husband’s alleged lack of privacy; staring dead ahead as they walked together (albeit reluctantly on one side), Lucilla didn’t quite pick up on the look of puzzlement among scarred features.

 

“What makes you think he told me?” He had the gall to sound surprised.

 

 _“Well, how else would you know?”_ Ren had to admire the (to him) newly formed fight in the form of her testy replies and disdained curling of her lip whenever he opened his mouth. She’d grown. Not physically; she was still utterly tiny at his side but even the way the Force pulsated around her was different to before (and nothing to do with the unborn baby she carried). Incidentally, that was her answer.

 

“The Force gathers itself around the unborn.” He began, somewhat cryptically; enough for her head to turn and her eyes to flicker upwards probingly to find Ren already trained on her. He walked without looking, like he knew every inch of the ship. “It guards them; helps them grow and flourish. It’s a different flow to everything else and so it was easily recognizable. I could have known before you did.”

 

 _“Comforting.”_ Lucilla chimed with an edge of savagery that impressed him further. _“You might have known before I did; isn’t that **wonderful.** ”_

“Congratulations, nonetheless.” Unfazed by the restrained animosity, Ren continued at Lucilla’s side without a destination in mind while the “companionable” silence ebbed.

 

 _“This is the same Force….”_ It was the blue-eyed beauty who broke it and renewed Ren’s inquisitive air. _“That told you I was on Tatooine. That kept Orion there until he found me.”_

“The same.” The Knight confirmed.

 

 _“And why did you feel the need to tell the General?”_ For the first time, the lumbering male slowed; whether it was in thought or emotion, Lucilla couldn’t really tell but she watched for a clue.

 

“There is slavery in my family; going back two and three generations, possibly more.” This seemed _raw_ ; particularly in the way Ren chose his words to avoid appearing weak and sentimental. “No one deserves that, least of all you. You, who had been through so much already.” She ignored the tender remark and the lengthened side glance that accompanied it by fixating on the upcoming bend in the corridor. When he got no response, Ren decided on a different tactic.

 

“And what are you doing, wandering around at this time, in a night robe, as a simmering ball of frustration?”

 

Pure _incensement_ lit under Lucilla like a freshly stoked flame, enough for her sweet face to contort in fury.

 

 _“Excuse me?!”_ The whip of loose curls should have been a hint, when her gaze fired up to focus on the otherwise calm demeanour; Ren either didn’t see the line crossed or didn’t care but the outrage didn’t fret him. _“Frustrated?! How dare you?!”_

“Am I wrong?” He pressed, falling short on his when she stopped completely in indignance to face her; even retracing his stalk to bring them face to face for the first time since the chance encounter began. “Would you be so volatile if I was?”

 

Amused by the borderline temper tantrum that seethed, Ren chanced a lean forward; an action that clearly caught her off guard when she found him in her space. Spurred, he encroached further; closer and closer while she did nothing to stop him. Whether it was shock or temptation, Lucilla couldn’t be sure but Ren kept closing in, sealing off the harsh, bleak florescent lighting to blocking darkness and still, she didn’t move. Orion didn’t care enough to satisfy her, let alone come looking for her; the very thought of it sending the bird in her rib cage battering against its bars; both the injustice of her husband and the fleeting desire of Ren’s lips about to graze hers. Until a hoarse choke impeded the strange silence from somewhere behind her.

 

_“Little dove?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do review!


	39. Guilty Conscience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucilla frets when Orion doesn't return to the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the delay! Enjoy!

Lucilla had been correct in one of her assessments. Before she’d turned from the powerful, simmering form of Kylo Ren and saw her poor, devastated husband standing there: She would be sleeping in the spare room.

 

That was not enforced by Orion; no, the last time she’d seen him had been when he turned on his heel and left. Seemingly vanishing into the bowels of the ship, it was no surprise he had evaded her when he knew the vessel infinitely better than she did.

 

She had returned to the apartment immediately, bypassing Ren to go back the way she’d come; the only way she knew. He had called after her but so immersed in distressed regret, she would be lying if she could recall what he’d said. Once she got there and checked the rooms only to find them empty, Lucilla waited.

 

And waited.

 

And waited.

 

Fruitlessly.

 

Eventually, she conceded to defeat and traipsed to the spare bedroom, the one they (thankfully) had not gone about turning into a nursery. While her dainty body may have been physically at rest, that was the extent of Lucilla's relaxation.

 

There was no sleep, she couldn't even categorically remember closing her eyes. Not when that utterly crushed expression resonated behind her lids every time she even blinked, let alone subjecting herself to it for a long period by trying to sleep. Selfish? Perhaps.

 

In her torturous wakefulness, Lucilla found herself overly aware of everything. Every noise had her hoping he had come home but was she left disappointed each time she realized it was her own imagination. Every instance left her more and more dejected. In that resolve, the hours crawled by until the familiar time rolled around, when a brief, efficient alarm should have sounded; Lucilla roused like she usually would have. But when she went to inspect their bedroom; again, she found nothing.

 

Lucilla stood, helpless, in the centre of the living area; at a loss of what to do. All her options surrounded her, almost physical in their manifestations and just as intimidating as if they were. Overwhelmed, each option had the potential to only make things worse; a dawning that made the little dove begin to iron a fraught laneway into the plushness of the carpet.

 

Should she go to the bridge? If she did, what kind of icy reception could she expect? Trying to explain the muddled circumstances would be useless; he would not afford her (in his fury) the time to try and tease out the misunderstanding. If she even made it to the control hub before he had her entry barred. What if she collided head on with Kylo Ren again and the situation worsened?

 

Should she com the bridge? After all, whoever answered would immediately inform her husband but…. All he had to do was refuse the transmission. He might even punish the unfortunate officer who answered the com. Perhaps her com details had been suspended from the system in an effort to prevent her contacting him.

 

Still in the same attire as the night before, unwashed, teeth unbrushed; Lucilla cared for none of it, this cosmetic nonsense. Not when there was something far more pressing. Had it even momentarily escaped her that she was in state she had longed to be in for as long as she could remember? Carrying her own child? It seemed so.

 

What if she actively sought out Ren and gave him a firm talking to? If she was loud and blatant enough and picked the right spot, it might be heard and reported back to Orion; if he didn’t hear it himself. After all, with the abundance of monitoring equipment on Supremacy, it was a very real possibility.

 

Still, the General’s wife fretted and her stomach churned. Should she eat? Take her mind off it, perhaps and just wait some more? Craving some sort of normality and distraction, Lucilla made tea; a habit to ease her stomach but it seemed (as if privy to the situation) her child was cooperating and the discomfort was nothing to do with her pregnancy.

**Guilt.**  

 

Sure and certain, she was not too familiar with the emotion but knew it when she felt it biting her like it did then. In a different setting and physical position from the night before, Lucilla sank into dead bewilderment once more; staring at nothing in particular while her mind picked apart the facts. Ren hadn’t touched her, nor had she encouraged him to.  She had frozen out of….

 

Disbelief?

Curiosity?

Temptation? No, surely not!

 

Whatever the case, Lucilla resolved that her only crime in the course of events as they had happened was that she had not been quick enough in moving away.

 

However.

 

What would have happened if Orion had not arrived when he did? The blue-eyed beauty had found herself immobilized, for whatever reason, and Ren had kept closing in. Would she have let him kiss her? Would she have woken at just the right moment and swept herself away? Or would she have allowed Ren to swoop her away somewhere else to do something far worse?

 

 

Orion could throw money at the pregnancy all he wished; the finest maternity clothes, the best supplements, the most bizarre craving solutions without question, whatever homely touches for the apartment she wished but those things were material. If Orion _really c_ ared, he would have given her what she needed in the first place. Then, she would not have wandered from the apartment and in turn, would not have been cornered by the brooding Knight. Was it too easy to apportion accountability? Maybe, but the dark haired darling still could not help feeling hard done by when the situation had not been entirely of her making.

 

Stranded in trying to comprehend everything and trying to convince herself of her own blamelessness, Lucilla did not quite notice something; something she had been waiting for. When she’d arrived on Starkiller, Lucilla had commented that the doors were quieter than those on Finalizer. It seemed the ones on Supremacy had surpassed those of Starkiller and so the redhead entered without so much as a turn of a darker head.

 

To Orion, it simply looked as if his wife had shut down and it had rendered her staring at the wall with one milky hand coiled around a stone-cold cup. It must have concerned him enough to speak up.

 

“Are you alright, darling?”

 

Lucilla’s head whipped, almost to the point of strain, and stunned since she'd convinced herself she had been alone and would be for the foreseeable future. The cup was relinquished, almost tossed from her person as if it was incriminating, and for the longest moment, Lucilla simply stared.

 

And stared.

 

And stared.

 

Until everything slotted into place and suddenly made sense. Then, poor Lucilla crumbled.

 

 _“Orion!!’_ She howled, leaping from the kitchen chair and into the arms her husband had automatically opened to comfort her. _“I’ve been so worried, I had no idea where you were or if you were alright or-!”_

_“Easy, little dove.”_ Orion soothed, tightening the hold of his arms in a bid to calm her and suffocate the hiccupping sobs with his chest. _“You cannot be in this state, darling; it’s not good for the baby, is it?”_ If anyone knew their way around Lucilla, it was her General. Immediately, the rattling lessened as the sentiment sunk in but the hysteria remained, trundling around her head like a bull rancour.

 

 _“You didn’t come home last night.”_ It was time to address the bantha in the room but Orion hesitated. Still clutching her close with his head dipped low to console her quietly, the redhead swallowed but recalled the security footage and the determination he’d come to.

 

 _“I spent the night in my office.”_ Lucilla had suspected as much but was not brave enough to find out for sure. _“I poured through the security footage, over and over. Listened to the audio, over and over.”_ Again, the blue-eyed beauty had presumed as much. _“And I have come to the conclusion, little dove, that you were not at fault.”_ Lucilla could not see much, being pressed in close to the darkness of her husband’s chest but if she _could_ read the face tinted with tiredness, she would have seen that he had convinced himself.

 

 _“It was Ren. Whatever spell he put on you rendered you immobile and Maker only knows what he would have done to you.”_ Like Orion, Lucilla could follow that narrative; bow to it even. It fitted in with her taking the absolute minimum blame for a very close call and letting things get back to normal. With any luck, they could forget this strange thing had ever happened and resettle their focus on the pregnancy.

 

 _“Have you eaten?”_ Lucilla opted not to linger on anything linked to the indiscretion for too long and so, changed the subject.

 

 _“I have.”_ That was a relief in itself but Orion continued. However, Lucilla expected perhaps a rundown of what he had consumed for breakfast; not this though. _“I went to the medbay this morning, to see Doctor Craven.”_ Even with her face still buried in her husband’s greatcoat, the dark-haired darling’s brow creased.

 

_“Why-?”_

_“Because it was my fault.”_ Lucilla might have thought it briefly in her anger and desperation the night previous but never in a million years did she expect _Orion t_ o think it.

 

 _“Your fault?”_ She repeated, lifting herself from the blackness to regard him with uncertain curiosity. _“But… You said.… Ren…?”_ As it happens, Lucilla was not comfortable with Orion taking the blame when he had been nothing but a victim. It suited to accuse Ren and no one else.

 

“I upset you.” He explained, straightening without her to cling onto. “You would not have fled the apartment had I not done so and so, I felt the need to rectify that.”

 

 _“And… What does Doctor Craven have to do with it?”_ Their new and rather attractive female medic, the one in charge of Lucilla’s care; a woman with whom they had plenty of contact.

 

“I went to her for help, to explain the situation and to inquire if she could recommend anything.” Intrigued by the vagueness, Lucilla did not follow when her husband assumed a non-committal saunter in the limited floorspace of the living area. He stripped his coat as he went, placing it on its usual peg of the coat stand by the door before patting it down but not in the usual fashion to keep out the creases. Instead, Orion sought something, something he quickly found and palmed before returning to his wife.

 

Lucilla, still at a loss, did not bother to mask her confusion and from that, Orion took his cue.

“I have told you regularly, since you returned to me, that you will have everything you ever wanted or needed.” The General stopped short of his wife with the mystery item still guarded by his gloves. With a fleeting but noticeable look of pained, if temporary defeat, Orion powered on. “Last night, I failed to keep that promise. I was present but not willing in what you required of me and the consequences could have been more than I could bare. And they would have been **my** consequences. So, to that end, I sought help, little dove.”

 

Lucilla’s confusion had not wavered. She knew that promise, she remembered it well but as if he'd read her frantic thoughts the night before, he mirrored them almost exactly.

 

“This....” He began in a steadying breath and a loosening of his grasp to unveil the vial. “Is a bacta serum.” Two pairs of eyes, both different shades of blue, settled on the mutual target; the tiny glistening bottle on a background of black leather. Orion licked his lips before he picked up his train of thought.

 

“Used for healing as you are no doubt aware but... Apparently, it aids virility and, unofficially, boosts libido.” Fascinated and flabbergasted at the implication, had it _really_ affected him that badly? Then again, how would she have felt if she'd caught him in such a position with her sworn enemy? What lengths would she have gone to? When Lucilla’s eyes heightened, she found Orion’s already on her, intense and serious.

 

“It works at a moment’s notice.” Direct and to the point, he maintained the shared gaze and his wife received it loud and clear. “The moment you feel the urgency begin to stir, my darling, need only inform me and I will be at your disposal for as long as you require.”

 

 _“I see….”_ Surprised and (she may as well admit it) riveted, Lucilla’s eyes returned to the vial and the possibilities started to unravel for her. _“Well…. It’s nearly your lunch hour…”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do review! I'm sitting on Matched at the moment but it's slow!

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to get this out of my system. It's a polar opposite to my other story Unexpected; if you liked this, you might like that!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Whores and Virgins: Pre- Pristine Condition](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6813685) by [Harrishawksuperiour](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harrishawksuperiour/pseuds/Harrishawksuperiour)




End file.
